Second Time Around
by Dee474
Summary: Edited and Updated Format. Previous ch 1-18 now ch 2-4. new chapter start with ch 6. Tom Paris is given the opportunity to do his life over. Is it real and authentic? Or is there a more sinister reason for it. What happens when Tom decides to take the chance being offered to him, anyway?
1. Contents Page

**Contents Page: making sense of the Timeline so far.**

 **1 June 2018**

Hi everyone.

I had a comment that the storyline is now a bit too confusing to follow. This is, in part, due to the fact that I have been publishing as I go and developing ideas and threads when I fix potholes that my betas find while they review my new chapters. And partly to do with the fact that I didn't want to throw away 10,000 words of storyline because of those developing ideas and threads.

So, I have decided to republish what I have written so far into sections which follow a more logical sequence for the story. Hopefully, this will help people to make better sense of the plot. I have taken away the chapter numbers but have left in the chapter titles to make the transition into the new format easier for existing readers.

Individual chapter numbers begin again with Section 4 as this is basically where I had previously published up to.

For those new to the story, or who want to re-read it in the new format, you can ignore the rest of this note and now go onto to read Section One.

 **For those who don't want to re-read the story so far:**

The following is a summary of the original chapters in a linear timeline and broad overview of story progression up to chapter 18.

 **Section 1: June 26, 2367. Caldik Prime Event in changed Timeline. Setting up the mystery of what really happened at Caldik Prime.**

Odd chapters 1-9: Setting the scene at Caldik Prime in the changed timeline

Chapter 1: June 26, 2367. Early Morning

Chapter 3: June 26, 2367 Mid Afternoon

Chapter 5: June 26, 2367 Later Afternoon

Chapter 7: June 26, 2367 Early Evening

Chapter 9: June 28, 2367 Early Evening

 **Section 2: Original Timeline 2371 – October 28, 2375. Key events in the original timeline which either-**

 **pertain to the mystery of Caldik Prime**

 **precipitate the jump into the changed timeline**

Even chapters 2-10: DQ events in the original timeline, up to and during, the Equinox episode leading to the AU inception event.

Chapter 2: Deep Space Nine 2371

Chapter 4: DQ March 2371

Chapter 6: DQ October 2372

Chapter 8 DQ October 23 -24, 2375

Chapter 10: DQ October 28, 2375

 **Section 3: Starting Point of the changed Timeline. It begins with Tom waking up at Starfleet Academy and follows his crisis filled journey to Starbase 220 where is to supposed to meet up with the Enterprise.**

 **Set in the Alpha Quadrant. May 1 – June 26, 2367.**

Chapter 11. SF Academy. May 1. Tom

Chapter 12. The Enterprise. May 1. Capt. Picard

Chapter 13 SF Academy. May 4. Tom

Chapter 14 SF HQ. May 4. Adm. Necheyev and Adm. Paris

Chapter 15 Teaser chapter. Actually set on the USS Desiree, enroute to Caldik Prime via Starbase 220. May 4. Tom in sickbay

Chapter 16 USS Desiree. May 4. Tom and Charlie

Chapter 17 USS Desiree. May 5 Tom and Vorinna mind-meld of Tom's childhood

trauma event

 **Section 4: With the mysterious disappearance of the Enterprise, Tom is temporarily re-deployed to Starbase 220 to work on a special project.**

Chapter 18 Starbase 220. Dual POV. Tom and Starbase220's Captain Plith.

The first draft of the rest of this section has been written. It is being edited, beta'd, andre-written.

 **Section 5: The Enterprise returns. Tom begins his duties as a relief pilot on-board the ship. Unexpected repercussions as a result of events on the USS Desiree and Starbase 220 continue to have a domino effect on Tom's life aboard the Enterprise.**

Again, the first draft of a large portion of this section has been written. It is yet to be beta'd and is subject to change.

 **Section 6: The truth of Caldik Prime revealed. (projected date of event: June 30, 2367?)**

 **Yet to be written.**

 **Epilogue** : The truth behind the reason for the changed timeline. Tom has a decision to make.


	2. STA v2: Section 1

Title: **Second Time Around**  
Category: TV Shows » StarTrek: Voyager  
Author: Dee474  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: K+ 

* * *

Disclaimer for entire story: As usual, I own nothing from any of the official Star trek universes whether in book or film form. Assume anything different from the books (which I haven't read)/ show is because of it being an alternate universe.

Authors Note. Dates are based on information provided in the Trek Annotated Timeline by Win Scott Eckert.

A million thanks go to OPYKJ and Capt Acorn for being amazing betas.

* * *

 **Section 1**

 **Alpha Quadrant. Changed Timeline. June 26, 2367**.

Setting up the mystery of what really happened at Caldik Prime.

Originally odd chapters 1-9

* * *

 **Caldik Prime**

* * *

 **Early morning**

"Ensign Paris, you're with me," Dr Crusher declared.

They grabbed the disaster medkits and headed for transporter 3. Tom gave a brief, grim nod to Transporter Chief O'Brien as he took his place with the other four members of the team already waiting on the pad. Six teams were being simultaneously beamed down to the disaster zone.

The Chief was fiddling with the controls.

 _Come on_ , Tom thought to himself, _let's just get it over with!_

Tom closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He pictured a candle burning steadily, a focal point of calm and serenity. Firmly, he took control of his thoughts _. I can do this!_ He breathed out while continuing to picture the calming flame. A moment later he felt the usual tingle of the transporters and he was on the surface.

He opened his eyes.

 _I can't do this!_

It was his worst nightmare brought to life. There was almost nothing of the Caldik Prime Township left intact. What had been a bustling commercial outpost for interstellar traffic and trade, consisting of roughly a thousand buildings, was now a smouldering heap of rubble. All around him bodies lay burned and mutilated. Unbelievably some of them were still moving … and screaming … and crying.

 _This is my fault. All my fault! Dear God_ , _what have I done?_

He began to shake uncontrollably, lost in the tempestuous swirl of guilt-ridden thoughts, as he took in the magnitude of the disaster they had transported into.

He felt his arm being gripped. Looking over he saw Dr Crusher smiling at him. "It's okay, Tom. The first disaster is always the worst. We'll do this together, one person at a time."

She was encouraging him, but at the same time it was an order. Get your act together. Tom nodded and took hold of his medkit. _Now is not the time to fall apart. I need to help these people. I can't do that if I'm a mess. Focus! Who needs my help the most?_

A single voice cut through the maelstrom and into his awareness. A little girl screaming for her mother. He turned his head, looking for her.

There she was! A few metres away from his position. Three, maybe four years old. A ragged blue dress hung tattered and useless over her petite frame. Her large, beautiful eyes - only just visible through the haze - were red from the combination of smoke and crying. Her body was burned, but not as badly as some of the others. Her arm looked like it could be broken, too. _She must be in terrible pain._

She was half sitting, half lying, draped over a badly burnt person that was probably already dead. Based on the way the little girl was shaking the body as she screamed out, it had to be her mother.

He rushed over to the side of the small child, noticing immediately that the still form next to her was indeed a dead female. Calmly, deliberately, he allowed the mask of friendly but professional competence that he had perfected over the last couple of years to fall over his face. "Hello," he said, "My name is Tom, what's yours?"

Twenty minutes later the little girl's arm had been reset, first aid applied to her burns and the new playsuit Tom had immediately ordered to be beamed down fitted perfectly. Tom's latest nonsensical story was successfully distracting her from the real-life horror story surrounding them as Tom finished repacking his medkit and carefully considered his options. Having ascertained that the dead person had definitely been her mother, and that there were apparently no other living relatives - that the child knew about, he was in a bit of a quandary.

 _I can't just abandon her. I'll just have to take her with me, until I can find someone else to look after her. I'll ask her to be my assistant and 'help' me to read the tricorder readings while I'm helping some of the other victims. Hopefully, it will give her something positive to focus on._

Dr Crusher looked over in approval as Tom hurried over to another patient. The recently treated little girl was clinging firmly to his hand and her little legs were pumping in overtime to keep up with her rescuer _. It looks like Tom will be fine. I'll keep him in sight for the next half hour or so, just to make sure, but I don't think that he will need my help after all_. With that encouraging thought she got on with the grim business at hand, finding another survivor to treat.

Caldik Prime was the only planet in the tiny star system which was not totally inhospitable to life or populated entirely by pre-warp civilizations. Its only selling point was its location, a strategic stronghold for Starfleet, intersecting three other pivotal political hotspots. The township accounted for ninety-eight percent of the planet's mainly civilian population.

In contrast, the nearby Starfleet Facility was quite small, only housing 800 staff members, almost half of whom had failed to report for duty after the crisis erupted and were currently being listed as missing in action.

The Enterprise had been the first starship to respond to the emergency call. With backup still to arrive it was a race against time to save as many of the injured as possible.

Within the first half hour the rescue teams found their efforts being hampered by the planet's atmosphere which had inexplicably become impenetrable to their broad-range scans soon after beam-down. Based on the types of injuries already being treated, the teams all knew that finding the survivors quickly was of paramount importance. When their efforts became limited to the old-fashioned techniques of physical manpower, picks and shovels, several security officers and other physically strong officers were quickly added to each of the teams to help. Another ten minutes after that, the transporters suddenly stopped working, and the situation became even direr with the movement of supplies, injured and team members now being limited to shuttles.

Tom worked quickly and efficiently to treat the next three patients he found. He had just finished healing another broken arm when he heard a shout.

Looking over he noticed that one of the other team members was frantically trying to move boulders from on top of a structure. Tom ran over to help. They soon discovered a group of survivors, huddled together. While his colleague went to help an elderly Trill, who was struggling to breathe, Tom made himself useful by prioritizing the other injuries. As more of his team made their way over to help Tom directed them to the most urgent cases.

The whole time that he worked his little shadow remained firmly at his side. She refused adamantly every well-intentioned attempt to persuade her to leave him and sit with T'mela, the local nurse who was now doubling as a carer for any unclaimed child found amongst the ruins.

The Enterprise teams worked frantically in conjunction with the local Starfleet contingent to find, rescue and treat the living and the injured still trapped among the decimated buildings. For many crew members of the newly formed Enterprise Disaster Emergency Recovery Team (or Enterprise DERT as they were more humorously called) this was the worst disaster recovery effort that they had been involved with. Apart from one or two exceptions they had previously been assigned to medical ships before accepting the transfer a year ago to the new Enterprise medical specialist section. The teams were used to dealing with disasters like plagues, not devastating scenes like this. To think that a single shuttle accident had resulted in such desolation was mind-boggling. The sheer level of destruction all around was unnerving and left most of them struggling to make a difference.

As the hours passed the workers were uncovering mainly dead bodies. The survivors were few and far between. There was no time for social niceties or chitchat. Not that anyone felt inclined to do so.

No-one that is, except for one Thomas Eugene Paris, the newest DERT member.

More than one of his co-workers found themselves unexpectedly grateful for his input, even as they envied his ability to lighten the mood of his patients with his humour and inconsequential chatter. It seemed that whenever one of the team found themselves flagging with discouragement, Tom was also there, ready with some joke or humour-laden suggestion that brought a momentary smile to their face and a renewed sense of purpose to their actions.

Even though he was focusing his efforts on triage, Tom couldn't help racking his memory for effective treatment suggestions to supplement his colleagues tried and true methods. The Enterprise was not a hospital ship, and they had been unprepared for the seriousness of the situation they now found themselves in.

Many of the seasoned doctors were intrigued at the extent of Tom's basic knowledge and understanding of field emergency medicine techniques and treatments; as well as his ability to creatively supplement them with innovative solutions. Nor had it taken long for Dr Crusher to approve his suggestions for ways of getting some of the other science division teams involved in their efforts either.

The young man's unorthodox style and lightening quick ability to think on his feet was all the more impressive given his graduating major. He was a pilot, not a medical, nursing or even science graduate. And yet, here he was, making an essential contribution to the DERT effort.

As a result a large portion of the team were quietly reassessing their assumptions that this recent, young graduate was on the Enterprise because of his family connections rather than his own ability.

The hours went by quickly as the teams worked tirelessly to bring life and order out of the chaos. Thankfully, most of the survivors had been found huddled together in protected pockets. Not only did this make it easier to find them, it had the flow on effect of encouraging the rescuers to keep going and to leave no stone unturned. Figuratively as well as literally speaking.

With their focus on the injured people, most of them paid scant attention to the subtle, but ominous warning signs radiating from the environment around them.

* * *

 **Sarel and Talla**

* * *

 **Mid Afternoon.**

A number of hours later Tom knew that he needed to stop for a decent break. He looked down at the drooping shoulders and listless form of his little charge. She had been a real trooper, but she finally looked exhausted enough for him to get her to go to sleep. He pressed his combadge. "Paris to Dr Crusher," he said, "Permission to take a lunch break for myself and Ghi'Annhah."

"Good idea, Tom." Dr Crusher responded. "Why don't you take enough time for Ghi'Annhah to have a rest and play time as well," she ordered in her friendly but no nonsense voice.

"Aye, Sir. I'll do that." Tom replied with a smile. He collected his things and then, taking Ghi'Annhah by the hand, wandered over to the one of the more remote break sites. He knew from his previous attempts that Ghi'Annhah wouldn't relax, let alone sleep, if she was surrounded by a large group of noisy strangers. He would have liked to take her back to the Enterprise, but with the transporters still down, and the shuttles needed for emergency transports, he couldn't really justify it at the moment.

Ten minutes later Tom had bypassed three of the more populated safe zones and made his way to site one. Only a few workers, mainly forensic medics and their security details, were still close by - working to positively identify the deceased. Finding a comfortable place, he settled Ghi'Annhah down to play with the ragdoll one of the team members had found in the rubble. That done, he got busy organising their meal.

Sarel sh'Alihi and Talla zh'Zarath both scowled grimly as yet another person died just as they reached him; the man's aural glow quickly fading to nothingness. Talla passed her medical tricorder over the old man for confirmation and then rose to her feet. As she did so, a small almost imperceptible tremor just under her feet had her reaching out a stabilizing hand toward Sarel.

All around the noise, the carnage, and the chaos of the trauma site, pounded at their senses. Talla stretched out trying to ease the dull ache in her muscles.

Being Andorian the two women had not needed as much physical assistance from security as some of the other workers and had been working by themselves. After all, like many Andorians they were very strong, especially when adrenalin rushed through their veins in times of crisis, like this one. The two had been removing rubble to get to the trapped and injured for hours.

Their last effort, however, had been interrupted when a small tremor caused a medium sized boulder to dislodge. It had grazed Talla's back on its short journey. Not much, just enough that Talla was now feeling the small ache. Talla stretched again and then rubbed at her eyes. As more and more people were recovered the white noise increased exponentially too. The whimpers, the cries of pain, of fear, of heartbreak had all been steadily increasing for the last several hours. With their enhanced Andorian hearing, it was getting hard to ignore.

"Perhaps a break is in order?" Sarel suggested. Talla agreed and quickly commed Dr Crusher for permission.

Through their telepathic link the two bondmates agreed to find one of the smaller groups of workers to lunch with. Despite the many years the two had been in Starfleet they still felt uncomfortable around large crowds of 'aliens.'

Minutes later they found themselves sitting stiffly with Ensign Paris and the little alien girl that had adopted him. All the other groups had been too large, and both knew that Kala would be disappointed if they did not respect his friendship with the young man.

"How are Thriss and Linth?" Tom asked politely as the two Andorians took a seat.

"They are well, thank-you Thoma," responded Sarel, using the Andorian version of the ensign's name that her fellow bondmates - AshyrLinth Th'echykross and KalaahlThriss Ch'iranon - insisted on calling him. Sarel's antenna waved in agitation before she could force them to be still. Thriss and Linth were their mates' close personal friendship names. The right to use those names was never shared with outsiders, only close friends within their clans. And yet, both happily gave that right to this young human, whom the two had somehow met years before, but strangely never mentioned until he had joined the crew a few months back.

While she and Talla would not dream of invading Ash and Kala's mental privacy, both found their bondmates' insistence on granting an outsider, particularly one who lived with and befriended Vulcans, puzzling. Then too, Thomas Paris was, at first glance, the very antithesis of an Andorian. He annoyed them. Sarel, in particular, came from a very strict Andorian upbringing. Choosing to join Starfleet with the other three, in order to maintain their close marital bond, had been difficult enough for her. Making a friend out of Tom Paris was almost impossible. And yet, for the sake of her mates, she would do it.

Talla wrinkled her nose as the pungent smell of death and burning metal continued to assail her nose. She looked at the human, and the little girl with him, for once envious of their reduced olfactory abilities. At the back of her mind, she filed the minor detail that the tiny earth tremors were increasing in frequency. However, the smell and image of the carnage around them was so impacting on her sensors that the tremors barely registered.

It began as an imperceptible rumble that slowly grew louder and louder. Talla and Sarel both froze as their antennae picked up that something was wrong. Tom, upon noticing the two Andorians freeze, started looking around to see what their senses were picking up.

Suddenly, the ground all around started to crumble as an emergent chasm began to split the disaster area in two. As Tom looked around to plot an escape route he saw the buildings to their west disappear from view as they crashed to the ground.

Thankful for his eidetic memory, Tom grabbed Ghi'annhah up in one arm, his medkit in the other, and started running out of the path of terrifying rift. "Come on, this way!" he cried out to those closest around him. Sarel and Talla were quick to follow, both responding automatically to the authoritative tone in his voice, rather than the lack of pips on his uniform.

As he ran he fleetingly felt a moment of gratitude that he'd chosen one of the cleared sites to eat, and that the two Andorians with him were easily keeping up. With his hands full, carrying his medkit and Ghi'Annhah, he wasn't sure what he would do if he came across someone needing physical assistance. Even if he knew rationally that a dead medic could help no-one, he wasn't sure if he could just ignore someone else's plight to save his own neck. Not here, not now.

Following the mental map in his head, Tom changed directions and soon found himself running uphill. By the time he made it to the top Tom had reached his physical limit. Collapsing in a heap he gathered the terrified little girl in his arms. "It's okay," he crooned to her. "It's gonna be okay. I've got you. We're safe. We're going to be okay."

Talla and Sarel automatically stopped next to Tom and sat down too. They had all been running from the earthquake for twenty minutes. Although not as physically exhausted as Tom, they were nevertheless grateful to be able to stop. The ensign had surprised them, being quite fast for a human; especially one also carrying a child.

Behind the two women, several other medics and security officers continued to scramble up the hill, all of them having also responded to the authoritative command voice that Tom had used.

While the last of the stragglers were dropping to the ground beside them Talla was staring hard at the young ensign. But, it was Sarel who asked the question first. "How did you know which way to go?"

Tom sighed. His memory immediately flashing back in time. Bruno, his best friend and a Starfleet engineer who loved to dabble in geology, had graduated six months earlier than Tom, and had been assigned to the Caldik Prime Starbase. Tom had decided to surprise his friend for his birthday and visit for the weekend. When he arrived, Bruno had already been committed to a speaking engagement at a local conference for amateur geologists. Tom had reluctantly gone along with him. Although he'd only been there because Bruno had begged him to be his moral support, Tom had never the less made an effort to listen carefully, knowing that Bruno would ask him for an honest and detailed opinion later.

Looking at the others he shared reluctantly, "My best friend Bruno was stationed here. He's an amateur geologist in his spare time and presented a paper a couple of months ago about Caldik Prime's unique fault lines. I took an educated guess based on something I remembered from the presentation."

One of the medics gasped and placed her arm comfortingly on Tom's shoulder. "Is that why you came on team this time? To find your friend?"

Tom grimaced, his eyes closing bleakly as he answered. "No. Bruno, and my other two friends who are stationed here, were all in the original shuttle crash that started this mess. Bruno is dead."

In the distance, an explosion lit up the darkened sky. The group jumped up nervously, prepared to take immediate flight once more.

Feeling more trepidation than he was wanting to show in front the others. Tom looked back from where they had come. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the fault line was indeed headed in a different direction to the one he had chosen. From his vantage point at the top of the hill, it was easy to trace the line of damage. It went for miles in two directions extending far beyond the township.

Tom suddenly remembered the explosion that he'd heard while he was running. With a sickening, sinking feeling in his stomach, he looked over to where he thought the focal point of that explosion might be. His eyes open wide in horror, he stared spellbound into the distance. As he watched, the Starfleet complex quickly disappeared into the chasm opening underneath it. Like the rest of the town, there was soon almost nothing left of it.

* * *

 **A mystery**

* * *

 **June 26, 2367**

 **Late Afternoon.**

Aboard the Enterprise Captain Jean-Luc Picard stared intently at the planet below as he waited for his Senior Staff in the conference room. Beverley Crusher's last report from the surface, which had arrived during the last shuttle run, was sobering. He hoped Geordie and Data would have something more positive to bring.

As Deanna Troi, the last on board to arrive for the Senior Staff meeting, sat down Jean-Luc also took his seat. He locked eyes with Geordie La Forge, his Chief Engineer, and began the meeting. "I hope you have something positive to report, Lieutenant."

Geordie's report was a lengthy and technical dialogue that brought a sombre silence to the room. Jean-Luc summarized the engineer's report succinctly, "So what you're telling me, is that there is something more going on here than a simple shuttle accident?"

"I'm afraid so, Captain," said Geordie. He nodded to Data.

"That is correct, Sir," said the android. "There is no way that a shuttle of that size could have caused the amount of damage we originally encountered."

The captain thoughtfully stroked his chin. "Ensign Paris once intimated to me that his friends were involved in an experimental project here on Caldik Prime. Is it possible that one of the experimental features on the shuttle craft could be responsible for the damage we are seeing on the surface?"

Geordie glanced at Data and then shook his head. "No, Sir. The experimental shuttle schematics is one of the few things that we have been able to retrieve from the facility's computer on the surface. There's nothing there that would account for what we're seeing. Of course, we will be continuing to look into it."

Captain Picard sighed before taking a moment to consider the issues. "Data, what more can you tell me about what we are seeing?"

"It is impossible at this time to extrapolate a cause from the data we have. What is more, early results indicate that the earthquake could not have triggered an explosion of the magnitude of the last event either. I believe that we are, in fact, looking at more than one event. Although, it would appear that great effort has been made to make it look like a single one."

" _Make it look ... did you say_? Are you suggesting then that it is not, in fact, an accident that has happened here?" Captain Picard immediately responded.

Data hesitated to answer, but Geordie jumped into the gap. "It appears to be that way, Captain. At least to us. We're just not sure yet that we can prove it. I have a bad feeling about what we're seeing. Something here isn't adding up." He paused, hesitant to put his deepest concerns into words.

"Go on," the captain encouraged.

"To be honest, I don't like the way we lost sensor and transporter activity so soon after arriving. We're picking up the rest of the star system just fine. It seems a little too coincidental that we can't get anything from the planet. Contrived almost."

"And you have no idea what might be causing that interference?" the captain probed gently.

"No, sir. On the surface it looks like the natural result of the disaster. But it _feels_ wrong. I just can't put my finger on the how or why. And I'm afraid it's going to be difficult to get clearer answers until the disaster zone stabilizes or we find a way around the atmospheric issues. For the moment, we are limited in what we can find out."

The Captain nodded. "I understand Lieutenant. However, I can't just take supposition and wild theory to the Admiralty. Get whoever you need and find a way around the issues. I want answers, Geordie. And sooner, rather than later."

Jean-Luc turned to face his senior Security Officer. "Worf, in light of Geordie's report, I want security on full alert. _Without making it obvious_! Given the political sensitivities at play here, we will need our actions to look as unassuming as possible." He paused for emphasis before continuing. "Having said that, there's no reason not to make a very detailed scan of the sector. If there's more here than meets the eye, I don't want us to be taken by surprise."

"Yes, Captain!" Worf rumbled in his deep voice.

Moving on, the captain now focused on his first officer and his counsellor.

"Will, Deanna - I want Data working with Geordie so I'll need the two of you researching the current players in the area. Do what you can to find out about the local issues. Anything that might have been swept under the carpet, but shouldn't have been." He looked at Deanna before adding, "Counsellor, if you sense anything at all that might be relevant I want to hear it." Riker and Troi both nodded their understanding of their assignment.

He stood up. "Dismissed." As his senior staff slowly made their way out, Picard returned to his window gazing. _So, we have a mystery on our hands_. _Thankfully_ , _I have a good team. Somehow, we'll find the answers_.

* * *

 **Still no rest**

* * *

 **June 29, 2367**

 **Early Evening.**

Tom smiled as he brushed a hand across Ghi'Annhah's blonde curls. Over the past couple of days, the little girl had made a permanent place for herself in his heart. Unfortunately, the multiple traumas had taken a toll on her. Often, just a few minutes after falling asleep, she would wake up screaming from the nightmares. It would then take an hour or more for her to be calm and relaxed enough to try to sleep again.

Now though reinforcements, in the shape of a hospital ship, had finally arrived. And along with it, more medical stores. Tom had taken the opportunity to give his little charge a much-needed tranquilizer. Finally, she was in a deep and peaceful sleep.

Tom, of course, was another issue. With so many still unaccounted for he couldn't justify returning to the Enterprise yet. Even so, after the frenetic pace of the past few days he was grateful to have been given a four-hour break to allow Ghi'Annhah and himself some down time. Dr Crusher had insisted that he use the time for some proper rest, recovery and recuperation. As such, Tom ignored the sound of quick, light footsteps, approaching.

From the doorway Beverley Crusher considered the young man she had come to see. She knew that three of the four people in the initial shuttle accident had been very close friends of Tom. It was one of the reasons that Jean-Luc had asked for input from both Deanna and herself before okaying Tom's presence on the team for this crisis.

Deanna had been very concerned for the young man. She had reported that his first shocked reaction had been quickly superseded by overwhelming horror and guilt. His involuntary verbal response had been, 'It should have been me!' That disturbing comment had been concerning to all of three of them.

As a Senior Officer of the Enterprise - as well as the closest thing to a confidante that Jean-Luc had - Beverley had known, even before he'd arrived, that Tom had turned down the position of Senior Flight Controller at Caldik Prime in order to accept a relief pilot position on the Enterprise. She'd thought Jean-Luc was joking at first. Despite its dubious location, the position itself was a very impressive offer to receive straight out of the academy. No matter how prestigious an Enterprise posting was, being a relief pilot wasn't, and very few new graduates would have taken, let alone asked for, that trade off.

She and Deanna had both agreed that it was understandable that Tom would feel some guilt, in the current circumstances, about not taking the Caldik Prime position. Tom was an excellent pilot and given the talent he'd already displayed on any number of occasions with the Enterprise, it was a reasonable assumption to suppose that he would have been able to avoid crashing the shuttle. Even so, his emotional response had led to a quick think tank session to determine whether it was appropriate to grant the ensign's impassioned plea to be part of the rescue operation _. Deanna's right_ she had thought at the time, _the level of guilt and responsibility he's been emitting is disproportionate. Even a non-empath like me can feel it._

Once more focussing on the scene before her, Dr Crusher's tired face briefly morphed into a smile as she gazed at Tom's little shadow cradled securely in the young man's arms. "You're a man of many talents, I see," she said, finally making her presence known as she moved closer. "I would never have guessed from your reputation that you would be so good with children."

Tom looked up. "Thanks, Doc," Tom said gratefully, "I'll take that as a compliment." He hesitated before asking the question that had been burning in his conscience since they'd first beamed down. "Do we have an official body count, yet?"

Beverley shook her head, her face serious. "It's not good, ensign," she said. "Eighty percent of Caldik Prime's population is now accounted for. More than 4000 are confirmed dead. There are still almost 1000 injured being treated – most of them critical. I suppose that we should be grateful that over 350 people managed to escape relatively unscathed."

"What about our Enterprise DERT Teams, ma'am? Did everyone get out of the way in time?"

"Regahia and Cheuntiss are dead." Beverley began. "Matthai and Giovani are injured but will make a full recovery. Sh'alihi is critical, although Dr P'Enteristhri and I both agree that she was found early enough to give her a fighting chance. The others received superficial injuries and were able to continue with our recovery efforts."

Doctor Crusher grimaced as her mind flittered back to the explosion that had caught her medical team unawares just a few hours after they had arrived to help with the survivors of the initial disaster. "Geordi and his team have been going over the sensor readings. They still don't know why the Caldik Prime Starbase exploded like that. But they're working on it."

Tom frowned. _What does she mean by that? Isn't it all just fallout from the shuttle crash?_ But Dr Crusher was still talking and he forced himself to keep listening.

"Now that replacement medical staff have arrived," the doctor was saying, "our teams are all in the process of beaming back to the Enterprise for some dearly needed rest."

Once more she paused to study the young man before her. The bright blue of his eyes stood in stark contrast to the pasty white of his face. The black swollen bags under his eyes and the three-day growth on his face was testimony to the driven pace the young man had set.

"You've done an amazing job, Tom. You have certainly impressed the Caldik Prime medical staff. Both Dr P'Enteristhri and Dr Stevens are very happy with your work here over the last few days."

Tom looked away in embarrassment as she complimented him. For a moment, his expression looked just like one of Wesley's. It startled her into remembering that the young man was only seven months older than her son and had just celebrated his 21st birthday. Somehow, despite Wesley's own precocious upbringing, Tom still managed to come across as years older than him. "How about you, Tom?" she asked compassionately. "You've been at it for almost 50 hours straight. The only breaks you've taken have been to either feed, comfort or rock Ghi'Annhah to sleep."

Tom knew that tone. He was about to be dismissed from duty. And that was something that he wasn't ready to face. Sure, he was tired. But he wasn't at the point of total mindless exhaustion yet. While he was busy, in the field or looking after Ghi'hannah, he could keep the demons at bay; but alone with nothing but time and his own thoughts for company while Ghi'hannah slept? He couldn't do it. He aimed his best disarming grin at the doctor. "I'm okay, Doc," he responded.

Recognizing the outright lie for what it was, Dr Crusher paused as she asked herself if she was about to do the right thing?

 _How much more can Ensign Paris be reasonably expected to handle? This is his first time out with the DERT team. Even my most experienced members are feeling the effects._

Silently, she mentally reviewed Dr P'Enteristh's most recent request.

If only young Ensign Day's situation wasn't so desperate.

She hated to do it, but it came with the pips.

"I have some other news actually." Beverley stated. "About your friend Charlie. He has regained consciousness."

"Really? That's great!" Tom exclaimed, the relief evident in his voice. Dr Crusher put a hand on his shoulder, sorry that she had to burst the bubble of happiness so quickly. "Unfortunately, he isn't responding well to the news of what's happened. Dr P'Enteristhri is hopeful that a familiar face will be more effective in persuading him to co-operate with the treatment team. He asked me to let you know that he would appreciate it if you could go and sit with Ensign Day for a while. I'd be happy to look after the little one for you while you visit your friend, if you like."

Tom's breath hitched before his arms wrapped convulsively around his charge, unconsciously seeking comfort from holding her close. With an effort, he forced himself to respond civilly, despite the pain burning down his throat. "Thank you, ma'am," he said, "but I promised Ghi'Annhah that I wouldn't leave her. I'll just take her with me."

Doctor Crusher watched in disappointment as the ensign's habitual cloak of friendly, self-containment reappeared. To the untrained eye, it would not have been at all noticeable. _I wonder how he does it? If I didn't know better, I'd think I had his complete attention._

Deanna had recently brought up this issue of disassociation as a major area of concern and shown her the signs to look for. _Now it's impossible to miss the fact that he has just switched off and emotionally distanced himself._ Beverley was tempted to just let him go this time, but as it was one of the major issues she and Deanna were focussing on in the Ensign's Personal Development Program…. she opted for the soft sell.

"Are you sure that you're up to a session of patient sitting with your friend?

"I'll just go and sit with Charlie for a little while." He paused and then added recklessly, "I promise, mom. Honest!"

"Excuse me, ensign? I know you're tired, but generally I prefer to go by 'Doctor Crusher.'"

Beverley couldn't believe the response she'd just been given, especially from someone who was 7th generation Starfleet born and bred _. Doesn't he have any sense of self-preservation or appropriate boundaries at all? Something else to discuss with Deanna at our upcoming group session, I guess._

"Uh, yes, ma'am. Sorry about that." Tom grimaced. He hadn't meant to say that last comment out loud. But sassing back to the Doctor had become second nature in the Delta Quadrant and right now, he was so tired that he was running on the last of his reserves, not to mention automatic pilot.

"I'll let it go this time. Are you sure you're up to seeing Ensign Day? He's been very difficult."

"Yes ma'am. I wouldn't be able to relax knowing that Charlie was needing some support right now."

Beverley could empathise with that feeling. "I understand, ensign. In that case you've got one hour, and one hour only."

Tom nodded and repressed the strong desire to shudder. In her own way, Dr Crusher was more like Captain Janeway than his father – mixing a firm adherence to Starfleet protocol with covert motherly concern for the crew members under her command. He'd recently noticed both Dr Crusher and Counsellor Troi showing subtle signs that they were making him a priority pet project. _As if I didn't get enough crap from that kind of attention in the Delta Quadrant. Gees_ , he grumbled to himself, _what is it with Captains, Medical Officers and their pet projects. And why do they always have to choose me to be one?_ Having Owen Paris as a father was bad enough. He most definitely did not need – or want - to be micro-managed by another Starfleet 'parent' figure. He especially didn't need the pressure that came along with it.

"Oh Tom,"

Tom stopped and looked back at the Doctor.

"I will be checking to make sure that you're back on the Enterprise at the end of that time."

Tom checked an impulsive groan from being uttered as he processed the implication. Dr Crusher had threatened it enough times the last couple of months after she'd found out about his chronic insomnia. Be back in his quarters 'resting' in one hour or he'd be on the receiving end of a tranquilizer hypo himself. Of course, after that last stupid comment she was probably hoping for the excuse to sock him one.

"Understood, Ma'am. Permission to be dismissed."

"Dismissed, ensign"

With a firm nod, he quickly rearranged the weight of his precious cargo to a more comfortable position before heading over to the makeshift emergency medical centre.

* * *

 **Guilt Battle**

* * *

 **June 29, 2367**

 **Early Evening.**

When Tom finally got to the hospital ship, he was quickly directed to his friend's ward. But not before the staff duty nurse forcibly insisted on taking Ghi'hannah from him. "Och, the wee little mite is still sleeping. You just leave her here and focus on your friend. She'll be fine with me. And if she does wake up, I'll bring her right over."

Tom immediately tried the same argument that he'd used with Doctor Crusher, but to no avail. After several minutes of useless wheedling, Tom noticed an emerging glare that was remarkably reminiscent of the one effected by a certain female captain of his acquaintance. Having been well trained by said captain Tom reluctantly gave up the battle, and left Ghi'hannah with the nurse before continuing his way.

Turning into the appropriate room, Tom froze and stood immobile in the doorway, just staring. Tom had known intellectually what to expect, but the harsh reality currently filtering from his eyes to his brain refused to be silenced.

Moaning softly in pain, Charlie was little more than a mangled mess. From necessity Charlie's initial treatment had focused on his internal injuries to the lungs, heart, spleen, intestines and spinal column. Unfortunately, Charlie had begun refusing treatment as soon as he'd regained consciousness.

His arms were still broken. His chest, too, remained covered with the emergency regeneration sheets originally used when most of Caldik Prime's medical equipment was lost in the fire. His face was a mottled blend of swollen red and white patched skin grafts, most of his hair was gone and the skin on top of his head was blackened. Despite all this, however, Tom could not stop himself from focusing at the spot where Charlie's leg should have been.

As Tom let out an involuntary gasp, Charlie looked up. "Tom!" he croaked. "You're here! You're finally here!" Charlie burst into tears.

Tom hesitated for a mere moment before walking quickly over to the bed. He put a gentle, comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry you're hurt, Charlie," he murmured helplessly.

"Bruno's dead, Tom!" cried Charlie. "And they won't tell me anything about Odile. Not anything at all. What's wrong with her? Why won't they tell me?"

"Shhhh, Charlie." Tom said gently, beginning to pat Charlie's shoulder in a soothing pattern. "One thing at a time." His voice was reassuring as he continued. "Communication is very patchy, but she hasn't been listed as dead." He paused, wondering how to reassure his friend while tactfully saying nothing that would come back and bite him. "Odile is obviously in another area. You don't need to worry. I'm sure she's in good hands getting the care and medical attention that she needs." Tom noticed Charlie's medical chart and quickly got up to check it out. He nodded quietly to himself as the notes confirmed that Charlie's case was still very critical. Tom knew, from his own experience, that personal motivation and a positive attitude were essential elements in the outcome of a patient's recovery process.

Putting the chart back in its place, he looked at his friend. He walked over and stared firmly into Charlie's eyes. "Right now, you are this ward's priority. You need to relax, calm down and let the medical staff help you." Tom sat on the edge of the bed being careful not to aggravate any of the injuries. "I know it's overwhelming for you," he soothed, "But you're not alone. I'm here, and your parents are on the way. Your job is to get better. Why don't you try to get some sleep now?"

Charlie jerked in agitated anger, hissing as the involuntary movement sent tremors of pain rushing through his body. "I can't! Don't you understand? You don't have to pretend. I know why they're not telling me about Odile. She's dead. My beautiful Odile. Dead. Because of me. Because I killed them – all of them. Don't tell me to relax. I'm a murderer! Nothing will ever be okay again.

Tom grimaced, fighting to control his response, as Bruno's words brought back unpleasant memories of his own personal hell. He empathized all too well with the sentiment. He'd been where Charlie was, and it wasn't a healthy place to be. Quickly and silently, he used a Vulcan meditation technique to silence his own demons before responding.

"I can understand why you would feel like that, Charlie." Tom gently took hold of Charlie's bandaged hands. "But, it was an accident! And we don't know about Odile yet. This hospital ship is huge, and the staff are still triaging patients as we speak. I'm sure she is here, somewhere, being treated by emergency staff, the same as you. What if I'm right and she is alive? She's going to need you, Charlie."

He sighed as Charlie stubbornly jerked his shoulder to remove Tom's hand and looked away. Tom quietly assessed his friend's condition before changing his approach. He made his voice harsher as he continued. "So that's it? You don't really care. It was just words and Odile actually means nothing to you?" He saw Charlie stiffen and continued his verbal onslaught.

"And that uniform you've been wearing. It means nothing to you, either? You wasted four years of your life pretending to be officer material. But now that the chips are down and this facility needs every man they can get, you're going to just wallow in your guilt and self-loathing and do nothing to help yourself, let alone anyone else. Really?" He paused to let that thought sink in. "I never took you to be a selfish, spineless coward, Charlie. You're better than that. The Charlie I know wouldn't let a tragic mistake stop him from doing what's right. He'd be doing whatever he could to get himself better, back out there and ready to help Odile when we find her. "

Charlie turned and gaped in disbelief. Tom was never confrontational, never serious, never harsh. He shook his head in dazed bewilderment, shocked out of his meltdown by his best friend's uncharacteristic behaviour.

Encouraged by the response, Tom stopped and quirked a self-depreciating half smile before admitting softly. "Now me, I'm not that amazing. But my friend - Charlie Day. Well, he is." Charlie stared back, swallowing thickly. Guilt battled with a hesitant flickering sense of duty and honour.

Refusing to back down, Tom continued to hold his friend's eyes in a challenging stare even though his voice softened once more. "So how about it, Charlie? Ready to show these people the amazing Starfleet Officer I know is actually hiding in there."

Charlie closed his eyes tightly before opening them to show a renewed glint of optimism and determination. He nodded slightly. "You're right, Tom. I have no business wallowing when I should be out there fixing things. What do I need to do?"

His voice once more a soothing lilt, Tom replied, "Do, Charlie? Right now, you just need to heal. You need to relax and sleep and let the doctors do their job. Just close your eyes, Charlie. Go on."

Tom smiled as Charlie breathed out a ragged breath and obeyed the instruction. "That's it. .."

"Good. Now take a deep breath." Charlie took the breath.

"Let it out. Slowly." Charlie breathed out.

"Good. And again."

As Charlie continued to obey the verbal commands, Tom helped him to settle back properly into the bed and smoothed the bed sheets over him. "We're going to work through this," he encouraged. "Together. One step at a time."

Tom gave a subtle nod to the nurse standing quietly in the shadows, tranquilizing hypo in hand. Efficiently, she came over and administered it to Charlie. Dr P'Enteristhri, who had actually been there the whole time, unobtrusively observing the meeting, now came forward.

Charlie, hearing the movement fought the encroaching darkness and opened his eyes. Through a haze he saw the doctor smiling encouragingly at him. He attempted to scowl. Dr P'Enteristhri was a real pain in the ass at the best of times. "You heard your friend, Ensign Day," the doctor was saying. "Time for a sleep. When you wake up, we'll talk about …" The doctor's voice faded to white noise and then silence as Charlie lost the battle and slipped back into black nothingness.

With Ensign Day settled for the night, Dr P'Enteristhri now looked at Tom Paris and nodded briskly to the young medic. "Well done, ensign." He had observed, of course, not only the physical signs of exhaustion that Doctor Crusher had noted, but also just how emotionally difficult the interaction with Ensign Day had been for the young man. He was very impressed with both the young man and the outcome of his intervention.

Making up his mind, he clapped the young man on the shoulder. "I hate to ask you this, but do you think you could stay here for a few more minutes, just to make sure that Mr Day stays settled." Tom hesitated, indecision written all over his face, and the doctor rushed to reassure him. "Don't worry about Ghi'hannah. The staff nurse has her well in hand. Best to let her get some proper rest for a change." The doctor waited a moment before dropping out a feeler. "I'd also like to let Dr Crusher know that I've conscripted you to this ward for the time being and will be arranging some temporary quarters for you." The doctor saw personal desire and protective responsibility war briefly within the ensign before Tom agreed, "Aye, sir."

The doctor nodded happily. "In the meantime, I'll have Nurse Glen bring you a cup of tea and some biscuits." The doctor left and Tom suddenly found himself with time on his hands. Time which enabled his brain to start working in overdrive. _What is going on? There shouldn't be a Caldik Prime incident happening._ He frowned as he tried to puzzle it out _. It's the wrong month. I wasn't the pilot. I wasn't even here this time. And there was that weird statement that Dr Crusher made earlier. This is crazy._

His gaze was again captured by the sight of his broken friend _. I was supposed to be helping my friends, not making everything worse!_ Firmly, Tom bit back the sob that was trying to escape now that his emotions were coming to the fore with a vengeance. _If this is what happens when you change history, it's no wonder that Starfleet developed a Temporal Prime Directive._ That thought, of course, made him think of another time he had been involved in a temporal incident. His eyes hardened. And just where were Captain Braxton and his time ship when you wanted them to start meddling? _Shouldn't he and his fellow time cops be showing up to send me back to the Delta Quadrant right about now?_

Tom groaned. _Where did I go wrong?_ And with that thought Tom was mentally swept back into time and the moment when everything changed.


	3. STA v2: Section 2

Title: **Second Time Around**  
Category: TV Shows » StarTrek: Voyager  
Author: Dee474  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: K+ 

* * *

**Section 2**

 **Delta Quadrant. Original Timeline. Early March, 2371 – October 28, 2375.**

Key events set in the original timeline, up to and during, the Equinox episode leading to the AU inception event. These events either: -

pertain to the mystery of Caldik Prime

precipitate the jump into the changed timeline

Originally even chapters 2-10:

* * *

 **Deep Space Nine**

* * *

 **March 2371**

Crewman Boylan looked worried as he made his way into the Sickbay. Glancing around he saw that, apart from the CMO, only the really annoying Vulcan nurse was in residence. _All the better - one crewman is easy to get rid of_.

"Doc," he said, "I don't feel so good."

"Just hop onto the biobed crewman," said the doctor impersonally. "I'll be with you shortly. Nurse, you're free to go to lunch."

The nurse nodded her acquiescence and left immediately. The doctor calmly finished and filed his report before turning to the patient. "Okay, Boylan, what's the problem?"

Boylan fidgeted nervously before jumping down from the biobed and pacing restlessly. "I just passed Paris in Quark's. He was wearing a Starfleet uniform. They must be onto us. What are we going to do?"

Doctor Fitzgerald's arm shot out and Arthur Boylan found himself being slammed back onto the biobed. An instant later, a hypospray was being waved threateningly in his face.

"You are going to do nothing," the doctor growled. "Paris did a deal with the rehab commission for an early release. Nothing else. But don't worry. With a little bit of tweaking, and a few more 'personal confidences' shared with my dear friend Aaron Cavitt over lunch today, that fool Paris's decision to help Janeway will play right into our hands."

The Doctor smirked at the crewman cowering before him. The coward was in too deep to back out now and it was time to turn the screws. "Now, this is what I want you to do …"

Arthur's eyes grew wider in dismay as he listened to his latest 'job'. His hands shook slightly as he tried to swallow the huge lump in his throat. It had all started so simply and innocently. Just a small favour, and in return, his wife's little gambling debt would be paid off and forgotten.

But of course, it hadn't been forgotten. And when the syndicate had needed a little favour of their own, they had sent Dr Fitzgerald to persuade him to help out. And with each favour, the stakes got higher and higher _. If anyone finds out, my career will be over_. But then the alternative was so much worse. Refuse to do the doctor's bidding, and the doctor's friends in the syndicate would take care of him...permanently.

* * *

 **Boylan's epiphany**

* * *

 **Late March 2371**

Arthur Boylan stared out of the observation window at the stars streaking by. _Free. I'm free!_ Guiltily, he silenced the mental shout of joy. Here he was, seventy thousand light years from his wife and children, and he was happy. He knew that it was wrong to be feeling that way, but he couldn't help it. In the last three years, his wife's incessant gambling habit had slowly been destroying him, heart, soul and body. He grimaced, knowing that many of his ongoing health issues had started just after he began 'helping' the syndicate with their 'harmless favours', and were actually a result of the fear and stress that had become his daily companions. His teenage children, too, had become a tad too comfortable with demanding the latest and greatest objects of their desires, and getting it – thereby adding to his debt to the syndicate, and consequently his stress levels.

But now, all of that was behind him. He was a lifetime away at maximum speed, and he'd been in Starfleet long enough to know that maximum speed all the way was a pipedream. As was the probability of a quick way home. Three months, six months, max, and they'd be all written off as presumed dead. And now he'd learned that Fitzgerald, Lyman and Cavitt were all dead too. There was now no one here to make life difficult or threaten him anymore. _Yes! A new beginning._ And the first thing he was going to do was make peace with Thomas Eugene Paris. He knew only too well that Paris was not the bastard that he'd been made out to be.

After all, it had been his actions, not Paris' that had destroyed Tom's career and his reputation. He could never admit that, of course. However, with Captain Janeway giving Paris a second chance, he had the perfect opportunity to make it up to him.

 _One step at a time_ , _though_ he cautioned himself. After the efforts he'd made to smear any remnants of Paris' reputation over the past week, it would look suspicious to accept him back into the fold too quickly. But yeah. He could make a start.

Maybe then he would be also free of the demons which haunted his night time sleep.

* * *

 **Boylan and Neelix talk**

* * *

FYI: gleigth is a Talaxian insult that I made up. It basically means *** Jerk/loser.

 **Delta Quadrant. October 2372**

 **(Shortly after the Investigations episode)**

"There you are, Crewman!" The Talaxian's voice boomed out its enthusiastic greeting. Arthur winced and resisted the urge to punch the ugly creature and shut its mouth permanently. _Man, I hate this guy. Even more than I hate his cooking. Leola root. Ugh._

Neelix skidded to a halt. Smiling widely, he handed the man a padd. "Here you go, Crewman Boylan, your missing padd. You left it behind in the mess hall earlier. I hope you don't mind, but I had to ask Tom to check out who it belonged to. I haven't finished learning how to read Federation Standard, yet. Tom says it's a book of yours called 'An Unfortunate Life.'"

Arthur plastered a fake smile on his face as the Delta Quadrant rat stopped in front of him. Taking the padd being held out to him, he focused on a spot just past Neelix's ear. He'd barely registered the Talaxian's opening hail before tuning him out; although he continued to nod now and then in a pretence of listening.

Neelix carefully kept up a friendly facade as he engaged in some small talk. For some reason Tom was determined to be friends with Boylan, and he had badgered both Neelix and Harry into trying as well. Neelix scoffed internally every time he thought about that one. Even Harry, who liked and thought the best of everyone, disliked this guy.

 _Sometimes, I really hate being Morale Officer. Chin up, as Mr Paris would say. I can do this. I will be nice to this gleigth._

His eyes flicked over the human standing in front of him. Boylan, despite being one of the main people who'd started all those horrible stories about Tom at the beginning of the journey, had been very quick to make friends once Tom was made a senior officer.

 _I'm not the only one who thought that Boylan's comments came from personal firsthand knowledge_.

It was many months later that he'd realised, from an overheard offhand comment, that Boylan hadn't ever met, let alone socialized with Tom Paris on Caldik Prime. Yet, it was Boylan's poisonous words that had resulted in the bad image of Tom that had first blinded him to Tom's real quality and worth. Neelix knew that Tom was still battling to overcome his previous reputation, in large part, because of this man.

 _Arthur Boylan is a worthless two-faced snake._

It was creatures like him that made Neelix hesitant to truly embrace the organisation whose Captain had adopted him, encouraged him, and given him the chance to redeem himself. He was grateful. He truly was. But there were quite a few Starfleet personnel like Boylan on board, whom he neither liked or truly trusted.

Out of the corner of his eye, Neelix saw Nicoletti and Baxter leave the corridor. He relaxed, glad that he could stop playing congenial morale officer, finally finish this conversation and exit. "Well, see you around, Boylan. Enjoy your novel." With a quick wave of a hand, Neelix made his escape.

With a sigh of relief, Boylan finally looked at the padd. _Oh, my novel. So that's what the rat was blathering on about._ With a careless shrug, he headed back to his quarters, greeting Nicoletti and Baxter as he rounded the corner and passed them by.

* * *

 **Conspiracies**

* * *

 **Delta Quadrant. October 23, 2375. 7 am.**

Lieutenant Commander Maxwell Burke stared intensely at his new temporary room-mate aboard the Starship Voyager. He had anticipated getting his own quarters, as befitting his rank as first officer of the Equinox. Or maybe sharing guest quarters with Rudy even. But this wasn't his ship, and Rudy had already warned him to watch his step. Apparently, Voyager's Captain, Kathryn Janeway, was a self-righteous stickler. And despite it's better condition, there were many non-functioning areas of Voyager that hadn't been prioritized in their repairs manifest, particularly unused crew quarters.

He'd been annoyed at first, having to share common crew quarters. But then he'd had an epiphany. It wasn't a slight; It was a gift horse. He knew it. At least, he did now that he'd remembered exactly why Crewman Boylan had hit a chord in his memory.

And he knew exactly how he was going to turn it to his benefit.

Max smiled in anticipation as Crewman Boylan stirred. It had been a while since he'd had to put his Section 31 talents to use. He was looking forward to the challenge. No one, but no one, stood in the way of something that Maxwell Burke wanted. If it all went according to plan, then not only would he get B'Elanna, but everyone on this ship would be so focused on Tom Paris' reversion to irresponsible jerk that they wouldn't see the real game being played under their very noses. Because there was no way in hell he was going to take being rejected in favour of a juvenile playboy ex-con like Tom Paris. Then, he and his crew were going home. And no ship of sanctimonious do-gooders was going to stand in his, make that their, way.

 **Delta Quadrant. October 24. 2375, 5 pm.**

Marla Gilmore sighed blissfully as the hot streams of running water ran down her body. She reached over and grabbed the bottle of shampoo. Opening its lid, she sniffed in the fragrant aroma of vanilla and peach blossom before carefully doling out a small portion of it into her hands and massaging it through her hair. "Mmmmm!" she groaned in delight as she felt the dirt and the grime wash away. _Heaven. I'm in heaven_. Access to her very own old-fashioned sonic/water combination real shower. Well, almost her own. She was sharing it, and the room, with three of the women from the Voyager crew. Susan Nicoletti, and the Delaney twins – Megan and Jenny.

Not that she minded at all. They'd all spent the night happily gossiping about men, love and romance. It had been so good to feel normal.

True, it had been hard to relax. She had been at red alert for so long that, at first, it had felt just plain wrong. But the other girls had been so understanding and encouraging about her fears and concerns. Somehow, just being with them had helped her to let go and release some of that fear she'd been carrying. She couldn't remember when she'd had such a wonderful time with a group of other girls since her cadet days.

Now, as the water cascaded down her back she thought about the favour that Max had asked of her this afternoon. She bit her lip. Voyager's crew were very nice people. And they had a child on board! _How can I even think about doing this?_

But Max had practically made it an order. And he'd been very intimidating in the way he presented it. Thanks to previous experience, Marla knew to think twice before crossing one of Max's decisions.

 _Face facts Marla. He is your direct commanding officer. It's an order. Besides, it's a little thing, really._

Marla closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, ruthlessly repressing the inconvenient thought that it might be a little thing, but it was also a little immoral, a little dishonest, and little cruel to yet another person who had been nothing but kind to her since she'd boarded the ship. She got out of the shower and stared into the mirror.

Her mind strayed to her first encounter with Voyager's gorgeous Maquis rebel turned First Officer. He, too, had been nice and understanding. So, she'd screwed up her courage and practically begged for a transfer. He'd turned her down. Firstly, her request to transfer to this ship, and secondly, her subtle hint of personal interest. Her gaze hardened. _So be it._ She'd been ordered to stay loyal to her ship, her captain and her fellow crew members. Well, if loyalty to the Equinox was what was required of her, then that's what the Voyager crew would get. All of them. And damn the consequences.

 _And damn them too. They made their bed, just like we did. Let them sleep in it._

Marla quickly donned the ultra-feminine off-duty outfit that her temporary cabin-mate Susan Nicoletti had lent to her. She smiled into the mirror as she noticed that way the colours and contours flattered her natural features _. This is wrong. You'll regret doing this._ The insidious thought once again seared her faltering conscience. She frowned. _Can I really do this to a fellow officer?_

 _Max says he's not a real officer. He was dishonourably discharged for killing three fellow crewmen in an accident and then lying about it._

Marla bit her lip. People could change a lot in ten years. It was obvious that Tom Paris had. She'd already heard all about Ensign Paris' recent demotion. A month in the brig for trying to save a planet full of people from destroying themselves.

 _What does that make us, then?_

She stared hard at her image.

 _No matter what nice phrase we use, the fact is that we've been murdering those aliens – for our own benefit. Premeditated too._

She thought about what would happen when Captain Janeway found out what they'd done. Max believed they'd all be put in the brig for the rest of the trip home. _Rudy does too. He says that Captain Janeway will never understand._

She shuddered as visions of the alien's counterattacks stormed through her mind. Sliding to the floor, she gripped her knees and sobbed in both terror and self-disgust. As she grappled with the after-effects of yet another panic attack, she knew that she was going to help Max with his plan.

 _It's just another mission._

 _I can do it._

 _I will do it._

Her mind shied away from the reality of the consequences that the Equinox crew's actions would have on Voyager, on Tom Paris, on her 'new friends.'

 _It's us or them._

 _Me or Tom._

 _The rest of my life in a brig cell?_

 _No, I can't do it!_

 _I can't handle this quadrant any more. I want to go home. I'm tired of being afraid._

Her decision was made.

 _Max will need to get close to Lieutenant Torres if he's going to succeed in his part of the plan. It's my job to pave the way and make it happen._

Marla resolutely spoke out loud. "Computer, what is the location of Ensign Tom Paris?"

 **Delta Quadrant. October 24, 2375, 10 pm.**

Arthur supressed a yawn as he pretended interest in Pablo Baytart's monologue on the joys of growing up in a 24th Century travelling circus. His double shift would be beginning in forty-five minutes. Given the choice, he would have been in bed hours ago. Instead, he was doing a favour for someone else that involved ruining Tom Paris' life. Again.

He stiffened as he felt the signal receiver in his pocket vibrate that it was time. He hurried to interrupt Pablo. "Hey buddy. I hate to stop you in the middle of your story. But I'm due on my duty shift at 2300 and I really wanted to see that holoimage of your family performing at the Luna Station fundraiser that you were telling me about. Think you could show it to me now?" Arthur threw in a rueful grin for good measure.

Pablo beamed at his friend in delight, excited to have a captivated audience for once. "Sure," he said. "Let's go."

 _Man, I'm such a self-serving loser,_ Arthur told himself. He thought of the tantalizing carrot that Burke had dangled in front of him the night before. Burke had told him all about the Equinox' revolutionary engine matrix that was going to get the Equinox crew home in just one month of travel time. And Burke had promised him a place on their crew. _In return for a few little favours, of course._ He thought of the letter he'd received back when they'd been able to contact the Alpha Quadrant. He needed to get home. Time was running out, Burke had offered him an immediate way home. He had to take it. For the sake of his children. The rewards would be worth it. Even if the price this time really would be his own soul.

He felt sorry for Tom, for what he was about to do to the poor guy. But Tom was a survivor. And after the Equinox went on its way, everyone would realise that Tom was innocent and it would all be sorted out. _Yeah. It'll just be a temporary setback for him._ Arthur stiffened his back as the turbo-lift reached Tom and Pablo's floor. _Showtime._ He pressed the button in his pocket.

Marla felt the signal go off with a boding sense of fatality. Tom had been the perfect gentleman, standing out in the corridor with her while she asked him all about doing some cross-training as a pilot. Marla could feel the doubts trying to take over again and, in a panic, threw herself at the unsuspecting officer. As Tom gasped in surprise, she took advantage of the moment to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him for all that she was worth.

Hearing the prearranged signal spoken loudly by Ensign Boylan as he and another man turned into the corridor, she quickly disengaged herself. Throwing a sultry smile Tom's way, she purred, "I had a wonderful time, Tom," before fleeing quickly in the opposite direction.

"WHAT? Wait!" called Tom. Tom stared in disbelief as she ignored him and kept on running.

Turning he noticed Baytart and Boylan staring at him. "It's not what it looks like!" he exclaimed defensively. "She was just asking me about cross-training…"

"We could tell, Paris, we could tell." Arthur responded with a smirk. "Boy, you really had me fooled with your good guy act. But I guess that old saying is true. A leopard really can't change its spots." Turning to Pablo, he grabbed the man's arm. "Come on Pablo, let's get out of here and leave Tom to his flight manoeuvres practice."

"Sure, let's go." Pablo responded quietly. If he hadn't seen it for himself, he would never have believed it.

"Hell," Tom muttered in disbelief. He watched two of his biggest supporters in the crew, outside of the senior staff, walk away in cynical judgement, not even willing to listen to his explanation or give him the benefit of the doubt. Angrily he slammed his fist into the wall before stalking back into his quarters.

* * *

 **Fallout**

* * *

 **A.N. Hi everybody. I am so excited to present this highly edited chapter. The original version of it started life as chapter one of Second Time Around.**

 **I can say, in all honesty, that it is the fault of my two betas - OPYKJ and CaptAcorn - that my story is as good as it is; and that it has taken me so many chapters to get to this point.**

 **So, thank you OPYKJ and CaptAcorn for your patience, ideas, suggestions and awesome editing.**

 **Delta Quadrant, October 28, 2375**

Tom growled in frustration, as he slammed his hand against the wall. It had been one week since Voyager had come to the Equinox's rescue. Just one week to destroy all his hopes and dreams _. I should have known better._

"Talk about deceiving myself," he muttered viciously while throwing a cushion across the room. "So much for love!" His heart constricted harshly as he remembered the earlier scene in the mess hall, and the way B'Elanna had practically spat in his face as she turned her back on him and flirted with that …that bastard Maxwell Burke instead.

He had heard from Neelix that Commander Burke - first officer of the Equinox - and his three groupies had started their attack on his character flaws their very first day on board Voyager.

It seemed like everywhere he turned, he found himself once more the subject of disapproving frowns and snide gossip. People were angry at his supposed affair with Marla. And Marla wasn't helping matters at all. He'd tried asking her nicely, even begging her to tell B'Elanna it wasn't true. But each time, she'd just fled, a mixture of guilt and defiant hurt being aimed his way. And, of course, the inevitable witnesses had gone out of their way to twist the scenes into even more evidence of his own supposed guilt.

Surprisingly, Commander Chakotay had not only given him the chance to tell his side of the story but had also believed him. He'd even gone as far as to trying to mediate a reconciliation with B'Elanna. She hadn't been interested.

So, it didn't even matter that it was mainly the Equinox crew responsible for giving him grief. With B'Elanna refusing to believe Tom's side, it was all somewhat irrelevant.

Tom thoughts turned back to the other incident being thrown in his face this last week. Monea – and his reduction of rank back down to Ensign. No matter the indifferent face he showed the world, that had stung. Every other member of Voyager's senior officers had disobeyed orders at some time or another during the last six years, thereby putting Voyager at risk with their actions. But he was the only one given brig time. And the only one demoted in rank.

 _Maybe Boylan is right. Maybe the only reason I was given the pilot's chair is because the Captain was my father's protégé_.

Now that he thought about it, the Captain had said as much when she demoted him - as good as admitting that the demotion was for failing once more to live up to the great Paris legacy.

He was tired.

Tired of having to work twice as hard as anyone else for half the recognition.

Tired of living up to standards twice as high as anyone else's.

Tired of trying to live down his past.

Tired of having to prove himself over and over.

Tired of dealing with all the crap.

He thought about how different his life would have been, if only he had not lied about Caldik Prime.

Tom grabbed an ice water from the replicator, sculled it down before dejectedly walking over to the window.

The stars twinkled brightly as they streaked past. Staring out at them, he was reminded of his mother. She had always been able to see the silver lining in the storm cloud and to maintain a sense of hope, even when everyone else despaired. _I miss her so much - I could really do with a silver lining right now._

He closed his eyes, picturing her face, the special smile that she reserved just for him. One incident from his early childhood burst into his mind…

He had been four years old. At the time, he and his family lived on a scientific explorer class ship, where his father was first officer. Tom had been close to his dad who had given him the nickname, 'Daddy's No. 1.'

That night his mum had finished her shift early. She had come home and put on a lavish spread for dinner that night, full of everyone's favourite foods. Afterwards, his mum had brought out a huge cake, with the words _Congratulations, Captain Paris_ emblazoned on it. He remembered being so proud and excited at the fact that his father was now a Captain.

And then, his parents had broken the news. His dad had been posted to a new ship. One that was not family friendly.

It was a defining moment, setting in motion a chain of events that had altered the entire fabric of his personal identity, and his life from then on.

When told that it would be at least six months, maybe even a year until he saw his dad in person again, he had reacted badly. To his four-year-old mind, it might as well have been forever. He simply could not conceive his father being away from him for that long.

His father had been impatient with his protests and his tears. "We're Starfleet. We don't cry. We don't whine and we most certainly don't complain," he had said. After that his father always had something else that needed to be done first. Whenever Tom tried to talk to him, or asked him for a story, the answer was always the same. "Not now. Maybe later."

But Tom noticed that his dad still had time for his sisters; time to watch their ballet performances, and to reward them with ice cream treats. It was just Tom and 'his theatrics' - as his father had called them - that he was suddenly too busy for. Technically, they had all travelled back to the Utopia Planitia shipyards together. However, Tom hardly saw his father at all during the journey.

At the shipyards, Captain Owen Paris had said a brief and hurried impersonal goodbye. The ship was headed out on an important mission and they were waiting for him. It left ten minutes later. Tom had been devastated, convinced that he would never see his dad again.

After his father left, Tom, his mum and two sisters had headed back to Earth on board the Endeavour. His mother would be taking up her own position as head of nursing at Starfleet Medical.

That night, at bed time, his mum had smiled her special smile and read his favourite story. She had had it replicated into an old-fashioned book format, especially for him. She had let him hold it and turn the pages, while she used funny voices to represent the different characters in it.

At the end of the book, she had turned serious. She wanted him to know that it was okay to feel sad that his dad wasn't there. And that their family story wasn't finished yet. Because Daddy WAS coming back. He could hear her voice so clearly, telling him to be brave. "Don't give in to the bad feelings. Keep hold of your joy. It will help you feel stronger, and make the time feel like it's going faster," she said. "Let's make a wish together that he'll come back to us soon."

As the memory faded, Tom blinked. _Make a wish. If only it was that simple._ Getting up, Tom walked over and leaned dispiritedly against the bedroom door frame. Here, in the privacy of his own quarters, he could admit to himself how much he really did miss his mum and her eternal optimism. He wished that she was still alive and with him; that she was here to give her warm reassurances that everything would be okay … "Make a wish and totally believe in its possibility. Make it the cry of your heart." he could hear her telling him. "If you don't ask, you won't get. If you ask, anything is possible."

"Star light, star bright," he started to whimsically say out loud.

He paused and groaned. _What am I? Four?_ Tom snorted. "Sorry, mum. Even if fairy godmothers did exist, they wouldn't be coming to visit me anyway." A line from a twentieth century song floated through his head. "All my rescues are gone.**" _Ain't that the truth._

 _[**Richard Marx, Hazard]_

He changed into his pyjamas and hopped into bed. _Too bad I can't do it over again. I'd shove my father's interference where it belongs and take the Enterprise position anyway._

Turning resolutely towards the wall, Tom closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come.


	4. STA v2: Section 3

Title: **Second Time Around**  
Category: TV Shows » StarTrek: Voyager  
Author: Dee474  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: K+ 

* * *

**Section 3**

 **Alpha Quadrant. Changed Timeline. May 1 – May 5, 2367.**

Starting Point of the changed Timeline.

It begins with Tom waking up at Starfleet Academy and discovering that he is in the past. It follows his crisis filled journey to Starbase 220 where he is to supposed to meet up with the Enterprise.

Originally Chapters 11 -17

* * *

 **Wait a minute!**

* * *

 **Starfleet Academy, May 1, 2367**

The alarm ringing shrilly in his ears startled Tom from his restless sleep. With a muffled curse, he leapt from his bed and turned to retrieve his uniform from his closet. Except, it wasn't there.

The closet that is.

Blinking several times in disbelief, Tom turned around in a circle, taking in his surroundings. He appeared to be in his old dorm room at the academy.

"Ha-Ha, very funny," he growled, "Harry Kim, you are so in for it, now. This means war! Computer, end simulation." When nothing happened, Tom varied his request, "Computer, state my location." No voice replied. Tom frowned again, only now noticing the distinct lack of movement beneath his feet that was always present when on a ship in space. Tom could always feel it, even on the holodeck; even though most others weren't that sensitive. Upon this realisation, his brain also quickly registered the lack of background engine noise.

 _Okay, so I'm not on the holodeck, I'm not even on Voyager. Or any kind of ship at all_. Tom gulped. _What on earth is going on?_

A sudden beeping from the computer terminal on his desk broke the silence. Walking over, Tom noticed that a message was waiting for him. Opening it, he saw the stardate: 44617.2 (May 1, 2367 6:10am). _The day my orders for the Exeter came through._

Tom took a deep breath. Opening the missive he saw that his assumption had been correct. _Curious. Very curious,_ he thought to himself.

"Well, this is an interesting turn of events," he said out loud. _I wonder if I am still dreaming, just imagining this, or maybe I've been kidnapped by aliens again._ Tom considered the possibilities carefully. _Maybe it's just an elaborate trick or a temporary side trip into an alternate reality._

Except, hadn't he been wishing, just last night, for the opportunity to reinvent himself?

 _Quite a coincidence_ , his logic taunted back. _And so very convenient_.

His more emotional side immediately argued back _. Even if it isn't real, so what_? Who was he to knock a gift horse in the mouth? _Why not make the most of this opportunity while I have it?_

 _Aren't you a little old to be believing in Fairy Godmothers_? His logic argued back even more ruthlessly _._

Tom wavered for a moment but then, staring again at the comm-message, made his decision. Maybe it was a big coincidence. And convenient. But he didn't care. _Just supposing this is the real deal? A bona fida opportunity to make my life over? I'd be a fool not to take it. No matter how small the probability, I have to act on it!_

But, what to do about it all? How was he to change it? Last time, he had gone storming into the Admiral's office for a confrontation. All that that had achieved was the Admiral declaring that it was obvious that he wasn't Enterprise material since he was acting like a spoilt child. _I need to do things differently this time._

Tom spent a fruitless ten minutes pacing around. Every idea he had, he immediately discarded. _Yeah, different … I need to take a completely different route. Don't think Admiral's son, think Starfleet Officer…._ "Yes, that's it!"

Quickly, Tom accessed the comm. channel. "Priority comm. to Captain Jean-Luc Picard, Enterprise," he began.

Dear Sir, I appreciated the opportunity I received last week when you asked me to interview for the position of Conn. Officer, Beta Shift. I have, just now, received my posting to the Exeter, rather than the Enterprise. While I appreciate that there is stiff competition for a position on Starfleet's flagship, I am disappointed that I was not chosen for this position. As I stated in my interview, I am very keen to serve on the Enterprise in any capacity, and am willing to take a lesser position, even relief or shuttle pilot, if that is possible. I would appreciate any feedback you can give me regarding my application and ask that I be kept in mind for any other positions currently available. Failing that, I would be honoured to be also considered for any future piloting positions that may come up.

Thanking you once again for your positive consideration of this application.

Yours Sincerely,

Thomas Eugene Paris. Graduating 4th Year Cadet. Captain Nova Squad.

With a grin, Tom sent off the missive. He knew full well that the only reason he had not gotten the posting back in his real life was his father's interference. Tom frowned as he remembered the life he had apparently just escaped from. After more years than he cared to remember of being the butt of everyone's ire for being 'the Admiral's son', even after being disowned and disinherited, he had had enough. This time round things were going to be different!

* * *

 **Political language**

 **… is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind.**

 **George Orwell**

* * *

 **USS Enterprise, May 1, 2367**

Captain Picard was in the middle of reading the morning reports when the priority comm. message came through. The Captain read it with a frown before verifying his own information regarding the matter. That done, he requested a private and secure comm. link to Admiral Necheyev.

"Admiral, sorry to disturb you at this early hour, but there seems to have been a misunderstanding at Starfleet Personnel and Procurement. I trust it can be cleared up before we leave space dock."

Admiral Necheyev frowned. "Personnel and Procurement really isn't my area Jean-Luc, as you well know, so what's the real reason for this call?"

"Actually, it's about Admiral Paris' son, Tom. I assume you know who I'm talking about?

"Yes, of course," said Necheyev, "Thomas Eugene Paris, Owen's youngest child. He's certainly made a name for himself at the academy. No-one could miss his record-breaking flying times, or his skill at leading Nova Squad the last four years. Rumour has it, you have been head-hunting him."

"I most certainly have, and I distinctly remember making my application with P&P to acquire his services as my Beta Shift Conn Officer. I was informed last week that Mr Paris had turned down my offer in favour of the Chief Conn position on the Exeter. Inexplicably, I've just received a missive from Mr Paris, requesting feedback on why he was NOT chosen for the position, and requesting any other post that I might be willing to offer, even relief shuttle pilot..."

"I see," said Necheyev. "If you could forward those letters - from both Ensign Paris, and P&P - to me, I will certainly get somebody to look into this blunder for you. Necheyev out."

Picard leaned back. He had met the elder Paris, several times. Hard not to when you served with the man's brother for so many years. And he was pretty sure where the 'blunder' had originated.

Still, young Tom Paris had shown initiative and creative lateral thinking in his dealing with the issue and had acted like a professional junior officer - rather than just running to daddy to complain like a typical Admiral's brat would. This proactive action was just the kind of thing that his dear friend Cole would have done, back in the day.

Cole Paris had been his chief Conn. Officer on the Stargazer. Always a keen observer of people, Picard had quietly noted over the years how often people underestimated Cole because of his mild, easy-going and 'flyboy' persona. Jean Luc wasn't one of those people. Apparently, his initial assessment that Tom Paris was more like his uncle than his father was right on track.

Jean-Luc nodded decisively to himself as he turned his thoughts again to Tom Paris' message. "Definitely, a young man worth cultivating, even if he is somewhat cocky with it." He stated out loud to himself. _Still, who wasn't cocky when they first started out?_ He chuckled softly under his breath, before hailing his First Officer.

 **A.N.**

 **Tom's uncle, Cole Paris, really did serve on the Stargazer under Captain Jean-Luc Picard. …although, I only ever read one of the Stargazer books (at least ten years ago) so I might have taken some artistic license in my portrayal of the friendship between Cole and Jean-Luc.**

* * *

 **Hard Choices**

* * *

 **Starfleet Academy, May 4, 2367.**

Tom finished his coffee and stood up to leave. Automatically, his eyes flicked around the room. Half way through the sweep he saw her; the last person that he would have expected to see right here, right now, in this universe.

"B'Elanna." Her name whispered across his lips even as a gigantic smile washed across his face. _Well don't just stand there_ , the snarky voice in his head said. _Go over there and introduce yourself._ Dumping his used cup carelessly in the recycler, he began to stride over to her table.

Half way across the room Tom froze as he saw Maxwell Burke slide into the booth table to sit across from B'Elanna. He watched in stunned horror as the man leaned across and kissed her, thoroughly. "Guess she's already dating Maxwell in this reality," he muttered disconsolately to himself.

 _Now what do I do?_

Tom shakily made his way to another seat and collapsed down onto it. _What are you doing?_ His heart cried as it began beating fast in his chest. _Run right over there and take her in your arms. Tell her that she's amazing. Beg her to forget him and give you a chance_ …." Tom nodded to himself.

But then that other rational, logical voice spoke up. _And then what? You ship out in an hour. Hardly enough time to say hello, let alone make a lasting impression. And long-distance relationships never work out anyway_. Tom groaned. Remembering how long it had taken for her to take him seriously in his other life, he hesitated. _Why bother? Even after I persuaded her that I was serious, she still ended up choosing him_. _This is your new start remember._ Feeling, utterly dejected, Tom returned to his room to finish packing.

Alone in his dorm room, Tom found himself walking angrily around the room arguing with himself.

"It's better this way. Right now, she doesn't even know I exist. No matter what, I simply must make this Enterprise posting work out for me. Maybe, I'll get lucky and not end up in the Delta Quadrant after all…In any case, I probably deserve to be alone. Maybe it's my punishment, no matter what universe I'm in."

 _But that hasn't happened yet. It's a clean slate. I should have at least tried._

"This is my second chance to make things right. To make sure that Caldik Prime never happens.

 _I love B'Elanna. She is the other half of my soul._

"But can I justify the loss of three of my best friends, just to have her?"

 _No! I can't._

"I've got to be strong and walk this out _."_

 _Heck, who am I fooling? The whole reason I'm even having this conversation with myself is because she had just dumped me for Burke back on Voyager. My life was a mess in that life, and I didn't end up with the girl because of it anyway._

Tom angrily punched the wall, thankful that the three people he had been sharing quarters with had already shipped out for their assignments. Fortunately, the pain registered in his brain, and he forced himself to calm down somewhat. Depressed, Tom began to wallow in self-pity, but then realising what he was doing, made himself stop. _New beginning, remember_.

Once more, his optimistic nature kicked in. He thought about some of the things that B'Elanna had shared about her Starfleet Academy Life. He smiled as the new thoughts began to overtake him, "On the other hand, Burke did dump her after he graduated in that other life. There's nothing to say it won't happen in this life. So maybe, I can have my cake and eat it too. If I make the Enterprise posting work, I can always find another way to meet her."

Feeling relaxed and somewhat confident once more, Tom grinned. _Time to rewrite my past._ Picking up his duffel bag, he practically sauntered through the exit.

* * *

 **Good intentions**

 **It started with very good intentions … Sharon Ellis**

* * *

 **Starfleet Headquarters, May 6, 2367**

Alynna Necheyev smiled coolly as she looked towards the man coming into her office. Gracefully she stood and extended her hand. "Owen, thank you for coming to see me on such short notice."

Admiral Owen Paris nodded briskly back. "Your missive was quite vague, Alynna. Is there a problem?"

"I'm afraid so." Admiral Necheyev graciously indicated that he should take a seat. While he did so, Alynna studied the man who had been her first, and some would say only, real love. Time had not treated him kindly. Although well hidden, the ravages of his incarceration as a Cardassian POW had indelibly left their mark. As had the bad business with the Orion Syndicate when Tom had been a child.

She stiffened her spine with resolution. Owen would be the first person to say that there was no room for personal favouritism in Starfleet. And while she would have preferred to be having this conversation with just about anyone else, she did not make Admiral by being soft or avoiding the hard jobs. She got down to business.

"It's about your son, Thomas."

Owen Paris frowned in irritation. _What now?_

"Really Alynna, wouldn't this conversation be more appropriate to have on Friday at the End of Semester Staff Ball?"

"Unfortunately, Owen, in this instance, it would not. Six days ago, I answered a comm. call from Jean-Luc Picard. There had been a mistake made in Recruiting that he wanted followed up." Alynna passed a padd to Owen to look at. "Imagine my surprise when the mistake turned out to be a deliberate countermanding order by one of the Admirals currently stationed at the Academy."

Owen said nothing.

"Why Owen? Why would you interfere like that?"

Owen frowned at his fellow Admiral in disbelief. "Why? You should know why. You know how I feel about favouritism."

"Your son was offered a position on the Flagship, straight out of the Academy. How could you take that away from him?"

"Positions need to be earned, not handed out on a silver platter. What good would it possibly do for Tom's future to be given a position just because he's my son. The Caldik Prime position was legitimate, a position that was offered to Tom as the successful graduating Captain of the Nova Squadron."

"You make it sound like your son asked Captain Picard for the Enterprise position as a personal favour."

"And you don't? People wait for years to be offered a position on the Federation's Flagship. Tom shouldn't be offered it just because he's a Paris."

"It seems that Tom took his failure to secure a posting on the Enterprise personally. He requested feedback."

"Feedback?"

Alynna rose from her seat imperiously holding out a hand to prevent any further comments. With icy anger she spat out, "Tom was the first 2nd year Cadet in the last 50 years to make Captain of the Nova Squad. He broke almost every piloting record in the academy, and several graduate piloting records as well. Even Cole didn't manage that. Of course, he asked for feedback. Jean Luc personally – personally Owen – asked Tom to interview for that position. If the Captain of the Flagship approached me to interview for a position, and then I didn't get it, I would have sought feedback too."

Owen's mouth opened and shut in disbelief, but Alynna was angry and kept talking.

"Jean-Luc Picard saw Tom's potential. He wasn't the only one. However, since it wasn't exactly a secret, except to you apparently, that he intended head hunting Tom for the Enterprise, hardly anyone else bothered making an offer. Tom's good enough to have been offered the Enterprise Chief Conn straight out of the academy - if it had been available. It wasn't, so Jean-Luc offered him the next best thing. He should have been the primary Beta Shift Conn. Officer. He deserved to be."

Uncharacteristically, she slammed her fist down on the desk. "Instead, because of your interference that position has already been filled, and he's going to be spending the next few years relief piloting until another opportunity comes up. His career has been seriously negatively impacted."

Slamming down the padd, Owen Paris rose angrily to his feet with a roared, "What!"

"That's right." Alynna said sharply. "Two days ago, Tom shipped out to join the Enterprise as a tertiary relief pilot."

"That isn't possible. I sent his acceptance to Caldik Prime."

"And Tom rescinded it when Jean-Luc took him up on his request for a position, any other position, on the Enterprise."

Owen scowled. "But his career? Relief piloting, hell piloting in any manifestation, isn't a career. It's a dead-end trip to nowhere. Tom's brilliant enough to make Captain by 30. Why didn't he just go straight to command track like I suggested." Angrily, Owen stormed around the room, muttering ferociously to himself as he did so.

Alynna looked at Owen sadly. " **Captain** Jean-Luc Picard would disagree with you, Owen. As would his **First Officer** , Will Riker. Both of them started out as pilots. The only reason they're still in their current positions is because they too have turned down advancement positions in order to continue to serve on the Enterprise. In any case, it simply wasn't your decision to make."

Owen opened his mouth. Again, Alynna held up her hand. "I'm sorry, Owen. Favouritism is not sanctioned in Starfleet. Neither is personal negative bias, no matter how well intentioned. Effective immediately, you are released from the advancement review process for Thomas Eugene Paris."

Owen froze, his face white with shock. "You're reprimanding me?" His voice was a harsh whisper.

Alynna stiffened even straighter. "This will not be entered into your personal file as an official reprimand. However, I suggest you take the warning seriously. Don't use official channels to guide your sons' career again. Either of them." If possible, Owen's face went even whiter _. I can't believe she said that in an official briefing. Yes, Nick is my biological son. Yes, I've admitted it privately. But, not officially. Never officially._

Alynna's eyes flickered briefly, as they filled with compassion. "I'm sorry, Owen. That's the way it is going to have to be." Owen flinched as he saw the uncommon show of feeling. He swallowed back the hurt, knowing that Alynna hated dealing with the softer side of her nature as much as he did. It had been one of the primary reasons they'd broken up. He too stiffened his spine, finding refuge once more in protocol. "Aye, Sir," he replied.

Alynna hesitated, but it had all been said. Too many times. "Dismissed," she curtly ordered.

Owen nodded in response. With nothing left to say, he quickly departed, poker face intact.

 _I really am sorry, Owen,_ Alynna thought quietly. _But if you were honest with yourself you would admit that it was the only choice possible. In the circumstances._

Owen strode quickly to the turbolift, determined to put the last fifteen minutes behind him. Ruthlessly, he dismissed Tom from his thoughts. Right now, he had bigger problems. _Julia will be annoyed when she finds out. She won't like how this is going to affect Nick. And I'm late for the welcome home dinner party. Not good. Not good, at all. Especially since Nick's going to be there._

* * *

 **STA Season 2 Teaser**

* * *

 **USS Desiree. Enroute to Caldik Prime, Via starbase 220.**

 **May 6, 2367. 7pm.**

Tom groaned as he regained consciousness.

"Ahh, you're awake."

The unfamiliar voice had Tom sitting up faster than was wise and the room spun. "Aargh, stop the merry-go-round. I want to get off." A hypospray was pressed against his neck and blackness rose to greet him as he lost consciousness once more.

Two hours later, the Doctor gave his report to the Captain. "There was some serious swelling and bleeding on the brain due to being struck with a projectile flying at full velocity. It was touch and go for a moment. However, due to an amazing piece of surgery on my part, nothing that couldn't be corrected. In fact, apart from a trifling case of temporary amnesia, Ensign Paris is fit to return to limited duty with supervision."

"You don't think the amnesia is going to be a problem?"

"Not at all. I expect his memory to fully return in the next few days. In any event his cognitive abilities have not been impaired.

"Thank you, Doctor. Please have Ensign Paris report to the Bridge as soon as he is dressed."

* * *

 **The way we were**

A.N. Chapter title taken from the song performed by Barbara Streisand

* * *

 **May 4, 2367**

 **USS Desiree, enroute to Caldik Prime (via Starbase 220 to rendezvous with the Enterprise)**

"Only you, Paris." Charlie punched his friend Tom gently on the arm. "Our last two days together before going our separate ways and you get yourself almost killed on the holodeck."

"Just count yourself lucky that seeing your ugly mug helped me regain some of my memories. Lucky for you we've been friends since high school otherwise I wouldn't bother." Tom returned the favour and punched Charlie in the arm. Charlie shoved him. Tom got up and advanced toward his friend.

"What are you idiots doing?"

Guiltily, both men looked to the door where Charlie's girlfriend Odile was glowering angrily. "Tom is only three hours out of major brain surgery and you're both fighting?"

"A most illogical choice of activities."

As Charlie hurried to make his excuses, Tom racked his brain to put a name to face as the most beautiful Vulcan he had ever met walked into the room behind Odile. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"No, you do not. I am Vorinna, Odile's cabinmate for this journey."

"Oh! Well in that case, I'm pleased to meet you." Tom smiled his most brilliant smile toward the Vulcan.

"Odile informs me that you were injured in the incident earlier when the holodeck malfunctioned and the safeties failed."

"Yep, that was me."

"But you have your memories back now?"

"Not really. It's very patchy. I remember my early childhood, and certain events like becoming friends with Charlie and Odile. But most of my life is still missing. The ship's doctor believes that I don't want to remember. I don't know why not, though. I mean, looking at my records, I've had an almost totally charmed life."

"Well never mind all that," said Odile, "It's dinner time. Tom, be a gentleman and escort Vorinna." Odile slid her arm through Charlie's arm as she spoke and then leaned over for a kiss. "Let's go. I've heard great things about the chef here on The Desiree."

* * *

 **Attempting to recover memories**

A.N. There are two versions of this chapter.

This is the PG friendly extracted version. **It may contain triggers as it references acts of torture and sexual abuse of children.** Although I hope that nothing is too physically graphic, it is intended to show the extreme emotional trauma experienced by Tom as a child.

I realize that this is not a pleasant subject and it was actually very hard to write which is why it has taken me so long to publish this chapter, so please be gracious in your reviews.

The full version (T rating) will be published separately as it is much more graphic and detailed than this one.

 **Spoiler**. This event takes place before the TNG episode, 'The Host' which was the episode that introduced the Trill species. It was during this episode that the facts surrounding the existence of the Trill symbiont was made 'public' in Starfleet.

FYI. The child version of Tom will be referred to as Tommy.

* * *

 **May 6, 2367**

 **USS Desiree, enroute to Caldik Prime (via Starbase 220 to rendezvous with the Enterprise**

"Are you sure, Thomas? This will be my first attempt at initiating a mind meld with a non-Vulcan. Also, I have never performed a mind meld unsupervised before.

"I'm sure. I hate not remembering my past."

"Very well, let us begin."

Vorinna guided Tom through the initial steps and soon they were in Tom's childhood. Vorinna and Tom quickly traversed the baby and toddler years.

Without warning Vorinna lost control of the meld. She and Tom now found themselves merging to become unwilling guests within the mind of a five-year-old-Tommy; sharing his thoughts and feelings but unable to influence the memory they were trapped in…..

Tommy laughed as he ducked into the abandoned building. He had the perfect hiding spot. His sisters would never find him here. Coming to the end of the corridor he opted for the left room and rushed in. He quickly realized that the room wasn't empty and skidded to a halt.

Deep green eyes pleaded with him. He gasped at the sight of his sister's classmate held restrained by a hulking, green, fat man. Instinct warred with fear. Fear won. He turned to flee.

Acute agony arced through every part of his body, paralysing it. He fell to the ground, face first. He wanted to cry out, to scream. But not even his vocal chords worked.

Helpless rage filled him as his body refused to respond to his desire to move and escape.

"Tom, come out here now!" Tommy breathed with relief as he heard his father's angry shout. Help was on the way.

The green man grabbed both Tommy and the bound teenager. "Vahr, three to beam up immediately."

The transporter beam was still initiating as Tommy's father stormed into the room. Fearful blue eyes stared into shocked grey ones. The room disappeared.

The vision reinitialized into a later memory situated approximately a week into the kidnapping. Tommy and twelve other children were caught behind a forcefield, locked into tiny stacked cages like animals. They were all faced outwards, their backs against the cage walls with barely enough room to breathe, let alone move.

So far, in the scheme of things, Tommy had been lucky. The slavers had been too busy for the last week to bother with him and the other caged children. They were fed a small amount of food and water each day but otherwise ignored. However, Tommy was no longer ignorant of the new life in store for him. Each one of them had a prime view what was happening on the other side of the forcefield.

The teenage girl who'd been kidnapped with him was dead. She and several of the older kids had tried to escape.

On the other side of the forcefield, the last of the escapees to be punished, an Andorian, was still holding onto life, his limp unconscious form being held upright by two hulking Orions. The head slaver flicked his gaze to the young med student cowering in the corner. "Fix him." The Andorian was dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes and the slavers exited the cargo hold.

Time shifted. Another day had been and gone in the vision. Vorinna tried desperately to break the meld but was unable to do so.

The cargo doors reopened. The slaver and his friends walked in. The slaver grabbed the med student by the arm and harried him over to the Andorian. "Wake him."

The slavers now changed to phase two tactics. It became less about punishment and more about turning the Andorian into a marketable asset.

"Tom, this is too much. We need to stop the meld."

Tom ignored her, frozen in the horror of his memory. Mercifully, though, the next images were quickly flicked through.

More time passed and then slowed down once more.

A Trill woman walked into the cargo bay. She nodded to the guards. The forcefield was removed. One of the cages was opened and a girl taken out. An hour later, another girl was taken.

The images sped up as the pattern was repeated. Compliant children were rewarded. The ones who fought their fate died from their injuries and were vaporized.

Then it was young Tommy being removed from the cage and time slowed once more. Stoically, he said nothing as he was showered and changed.

Tom, sharing the vision with Vorinna spoke softly. "I learnt several valuable lessons from the traders: never let your pain show, never beg, and never show your true thoughts or emotions. But I knew my dad and Starfleet would rescue me and I was determined to live long enough to be found."

They followed as Tommy was walked through a corridor.

The ship shuddered and tilted. The emergency klaxons sounded. Immediately the Trill grabbed Tommy's arm even tighter and changed direction. Tommy was herded into an escape shuttle.

Finally, the Orion slave trader who'd kidnapped Tommy entered and the door was slammed shut. The trader took the pilot seat and soon they were abandoning ship. Watching through the window, Tommy saw the main ship explode. The other escape shuttle, caught in the explosion, became a fireball and shot across the bow of their ship. The shuttle shuddered as the trader tried to avoid the fire ball, failed, and lost control of the vessel. Tommy watched in fatalistic fascination as they plunged into the atmosphere of a quickly approaching planet and the ground came to meet them.

Again, the vision jumped.

They appeared in a cave.

The Trill slave trader started screaming.

Time jumped.

Tom narrated.

"She was injured, after all. Without the proper equipment to correct the internal bleeding, it soon became obvious that the Trill host would not survive the day's end.''

Vorinna was pondering Tom's use of the word 'host'

even as the slaver with the crushed leg turned the gun on the medic, commanding him to implant his Trill girlfriend's symbiont into the Vulcan girl.

"It's considered the highest honour in Trill to be chosen as a host. This Trill murdered the Vahr symbiont's previous host and stole the symbiont for herself."

The medical student was trying to refuse to perform the operation, but the Vulcan girl agreed to become the host.

Tom once again explained. "The needs of the many. She's a diplomat's daughter, from a family of diplomats. Her grandmother was the Vulcan ambassador to Trill. She was travelling with her grandmother when their shuttle was hijacked. Right now, she's carrying her grandmother's Katra."

Vorinna was unable to hold in her shock at Tom's casual knowledge and mention of a very private Vulcan ritual.

Tom grinned knowingly at her and continued speaking.

"The Vulcan girl was hoping that the presence of her grandmother's katra would give her the edge she needed to be the dominant influence in the new joined personality. She knew that, not being a Trill, she would not survive long. But maybe it would be enough to even the odds and give me and the Andorian boy a chance to escape and be saved."

The Trill trader screamed as she was cut open and the symbiont removed.

The young Vulcan girl flinched, and Tommy grabbed her hand

while adult Tom continued his narration.

"There was no medication to ease the pain of the surgery. She had been unable to ignore her fear and the pain. I held her hand during the procedure to "help her" while she centred herself in a Vulcan trance. For a while, it seemed that everything would be fine and the operation a success. But then something went wrong. Both Vahr, that's the symbiont's name; and Ti'Raen, the Vulcan girl, knew that neither would make it. Because I was holding onto her hand the autonomous activation of the Katra transfer bond targeted me as the recipient. But it occurred simultaneously within the trill symbiont merging bond. When it happened the two rituals merged and morphed into a completely new and unique process."

As his five-year-old brain overloaded under the onslaught, Tommy passed out unconscious on the ground.

Vorinna felt overwhelmed as a cascade of Tommy's memories flashed by in rapid succession:

The death of the medic.

The near catatonic state of the Andorian boy.

Struggling to survive until the rescue.

Being rescued by an unknown alien race.

A year and a half of life spent with the aliens before being returned home.

Delivering Ti'Raen and her grandmother Ke'thia katras to the hall of memory.

Tom's memories were returning in a flood.

With a jolt, Vorinna found herself back in Tom's shared quarters on the Desiree, the mind meld abruptly terminated. She blinked as she felt autonomous mental barriers rising up, cutting off the memories and causing the mental anguish to dissipate. Tom's fingers left her face and she realised that it was Tom who had halted the mind meld, who had raised the mental barrier between them. It was Tom, an unnatural calm covering him, who moved to a standing, upright position first.

Finally, Tom started the conversation. "Are you alright?"

"I am unharmed." In fact, Vorinna was lying and was totally overwhelmed by the multiple sets of memories that had rushed through the mind meld. The knowledge that she had unknowingly tread upon a taboo subject was disquieting. The understanding of her parents' cautions regarding the use of the mind meld had come too late. Now all that was left was to minimize the damage.

"And you Tom? You are well?"

"Yes. My memories have basically returned. Thank you."

Vorinna nodded stiffly, desperately trying to maintain the illusion of Vulcan stoic calm.

Tom was hesitant as he spoke. "I believe that Vulcan tradition, and our personal safety, would best be served if we both agree to never discuss this incident again. To each other or anyone else."

Vorinna was quick to reply. "I concur. As soon as possible I will perform the Te fen Nal to erase the memory of this event. Given my intended career it would not be … appropriate for me to retain this knowledge." Vorinna looked away and then back at Tom. "It would be best if we terminate our acquaintance immediately."

"Yes. That would be the most logical course to follow in the circumstances."

"Yes." Vorinna moved to the door. "Good bye, Tom Paris. Live long and prosper."

"Peace and long life, Vorinna."

Tom waited until the murmur of voices stilled and the sound of the door shutting indicated that Vorinna had left. He exited the bathroom.

Charlie and Odile were forlornly seated on the couch, distressed by Vorinna's abrupt and silent exit. Tom retreated into his standard persona mode. "Come on, you two, I disembark in three hours. Let's go have a farewell drink together at the bar."

 **A.N.**

I wanted to add a story spoiler and say that not all of Tom's memories have returned at this point. He just thinks they have.

 **FYI.**

The Trill's **zhian'tara ritual** is roughly similar to the Vulcan **fal-tor-pan** ritual, since both enable the respective species to perform a synaptic pattern displacement, the transfer of what could be considered as a soul (katra, pagh, etc.).

The **Te fen Nal** is something that I made up, although given that mind melds can be used to erase memories, I'm sure a self-erasing-memory procedure is totally possible.


	5. STA v2 Section 3: ch 18 Rating T Version

**Author's note:** This event is an influencing factor leading to Tom's existential crisis, change in direction, choice of friendships, and coping strategies in this AU.

 **However, if you are under 18 please do not read this chapter. It may contain triggers as it references acts of torture and sexual abuse of children.**

 **Instead, an edited, PG friendly version will be published at the beginning of the next chapter.**

Although I hope that nothing is too physically graphic, it is intended to be emotionally graphic. I realize that this is not a pleasant subject and it was actually very hard to write which is why it has taken me so long to publish this chapter, so please be gracious in your reviews.

Please do review. I am working towards being an original published author and this chapter was an exercise in writing a gritty 'action' segment that would appeal to men while not being so over the top that a woman wouldn't read it. I really would appreciate some constructive criticism. Although if you do decide you want to flame me, please do it privately in a PM.

In this chapter, the child version of Tom will be referred to as Tommy.

 **Spoiler**. This event takes place before the TNG episode 'The Host' which was the episode that introduced the Trill species. It was during this episode that the facts surrounding the existence of the Trill symbiont was made 'public' in Starfleet.

###############################

 **May 5, 2367**

 **USS Desiree, enroute to Caldik Prime (via Starbase 220 to rendezvous with the Enterprise**

"Are you sure, Thomas? This will be my first attempt at initiating a mind meld with a non-Vulcan. Also, I have never performed a mind meld unsupervised before.

"I'm sure. I hate not remembering my past."

"Very well, let us begin."

Vorinna guided Tom through the initial steps and soon they were in Tom's childhood. Vorinna and Tom quickly traversed the baby and toddler years.

Without warning Vorinna lost control of the meld. She and Tom now found themselves merging to become unwilling guests within the mind of a five-year-old-Tommy; sharing his thoughts and feelings but unable to influence the memory they were trapped in…

Tommy laughed as he ducked into the abandoned building. He had the perfect hiding spot. His sisters would never find him here. Coming to the end of the corridor he opted for the left room and rushed in. He quickly realized that the room wasn't empty and skidded to a halt.

Deep green eyes pleaded with him. He gasped at the sight of his sister's classmate held restrained by a hulking, green, fat man. Instinct warred with fear. Fear won. He turned to flee.

Acute agony arced through every part of his body, paralysing it. He fell to the ground, face first. He wanted to cry out, to scream. But not even his vocal chords worked.

Rough hands turned him onto his back. The bearded green skinned man leered at him. "Well now, what have we got here?" The man spoke in a guttural and heavily accented Federation standard.

"What a pretty little specimen." The man's eyes travelled Tommy's entire length; judging him, assessing him. The man licked his lips, the action terrifying the young boy. W _hy is he looking at me like that?_ Tommy wondered frantically. _Is he going to eat me?_

"Yes, very pretty indeed," the man continued, assessing Tommy's potential and worth. "You will fetch a handsome amount of latinum."

Latinum! Tommy remembered, now, why his father had told him to never run off on his own. Helpless rage filled him as his body refused to respond to his desire to move and escape.

"Tom, come out here now!" Tommy breathed with relief as he heard his father's angry shout. Help was on the way.

The green man grabbed both Tommy and the bound teenager. "Vahr, three to beam up immediately."

The transporter beam was still initiating as Tommy's father stormed into the room. Fearful blue eyes stared into shocked grey ones. The room disappeared.

The vision reinitialized into a later memory situated approximately a week into the kidnapping:

Tommy and twelve other children were caught behind a forcefield, locked into tiny stacked cages like animals. They were all faced outwards, their backs against the cage walls with barely enough room to breathe, let alone move.

So far, in the scheme of things, Tommy had been lucky. The slavers had been too busy for the last week to bother with him and the other caged children. They were fed a small amount of food and water each day but otherwise ignored. However, Tommy was no longer ignorant of the new life in store for him. Each one of them had a prime view what was happening on the other side of the forcefield. The Orion, as Tommy now knew the green man to be, enjoyed the feeling of power that came from terrorizing his newly acquired 'talent'.

The teenage girl who'd been kidnapped with him was dead. She and several of the older kids had tried to escape. The Orion slaver and his crewmates had spent the last six days taking turns to introduce the 'escapees' into the duties of a personal slave.

The first few escapees had died one by one, slow horrific painful deaths as their minds and bodies broke under the onslaught of their punishment and succumbed to the only escape open to them. Death. The Orion was unrepentant when they died, even though his partner grumbled about the unnecessary loss of revenue.

Tom, and consequently Vorinna, could still hear the screams in his mind. The way the various children, irrespective of their age, had begged their abusers for a mercy that never came. If anything, the pleading had only inspired the Orions to greater acts of cruelty.

Back in the vision,

on the other side of the forcefield, the last of the escapees to be punished, an Andorian, was still holding onto life, his limp unconscious form being held upright by two hulking Orions. The head slaver flicked his gaze to the young med student cowering in the corner. "Fix him." The Andorian was dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes and the slavers exited the cargo hold, laughing and making crude jokes about their unfortunate victim.

Tommy looked at the young human who was now doing his best to heal the Andorian boy's wounds. "Why are you helping them?" he whispered.

Tom's mind blinked through the information he was now remembering given that the sixth year medical student was studiously ignoring the blond human boy who spoke to him:

The med student had been forced to join the crew after gambling his way into debt to the slave trader at a Dabo table; so busy flirting with the Dabo girl, he didn't realise what he'd done, or the type of man he'd become indebted to. He had been as much a slave as the children were. His first attempt to rescue a child from its fate had taught him to never try again. The child had been instantly killed as an "example". He himself had been beaten into unconsciousness and was still suffering from the injuries he'd sustained during his 'punishment'. He didn't join the slavers when they hurt the children. Neither did he attempt to rescue them. He was too scared.

Vorinna tried desperately to break the meld but was unable to do so. Time shifted. Another day had been and gone in the vision:

The Andorian boy, still naked, continued to lie unconscious on the floor where he'd been dumped. The med student huddled into another corner of the room trying to ignore the filth, the stench and the moans and cries of the ship's humanoid cargo.

The cargo doors reopened. The slaver and his friends walked in. The slaver grabbed the med student by the arm and harried him over to the Andorian. "Wake him."

The slavers now changed to phase two tactics. It became less about punishment and more about turning the Andorian into a marketable asset. Eventually the Andorian boy started obeying the slaver's instructions with mechanical submissiveness. As a reward for his good behaviour, the boy was given clothes again. The next time he was given a mouth-watering, delicious smelling meal.

Vorinna noticed five-year-old Tommy staring hungrily at each mouthful the Andorian boy ate, his own ration bar dropping unnoticed to the floor. She glanced at Tom, whose focus was solely on the Andorian boy.

"Tom, this is too much. We need to stop the meld."

Tom ignored her, frozen in the horror of his memory. Mercifully, though, the next images were quickly flicked through:

The Andorian boy 'allowed' to take a shower. With one of the slavers, and in full view of the rest of the cargo bay, of course.

The boy being rewarded with a proper bed to sleep on.

A quick glance at the other surviving escapees lying listlessly on their beds, despite being left 'unguarded'.

More time passed and then slowed down once more.

A Trill woman walked into the cargo bay. She nodded to the guards. The forcefield was removed. One of the cages was opened and a girl taken out. After the forcefield was reinitiated, the Trill woman removed the girl's clothes and showered her clean. She was then dressed in a pretty robe and taken away out of the cargo hold. An hour later her unconscious, bruised and battered body was thrown back into the cage.

Another girl was taken. She was brought back conscious and taken over to the medic for healing. The head slaver walked in. Like the surviving escapees, the child was required to shower with the slaver before being given a succulent meal to eat in front of the forcefield enclosed cages and then allowed a real bed in the other uncaged section of the cargo bay.

The first girl's body was taken from the cage and thrown in the disintegrator.

The images sped up as the pattern was repeated. Compliant children were rewarded. The ones who fought their fate died from their injuries and were vaporized.

Then it was young Tommy being removed from the cage and time slowed once more:

Stoically, he said nothing as he was showered and changed.

Tom, sharing the vision with Vorinna spoke softly. "I learnt several valuable lessons from the traders: never let your pain show, never beg, and never show your true thoughts or emotions. But I knew my dad and Starfleet would rescue me and I was determined to live long enough to be found."

They followed as:

Tommy was walked through a corridor.

The ship shuddered and tilted. The emergency klaxons sounded. Immediately the Trill grabbed Tommy's arm even tighter and changed direction. Tommy was herded into an escape shuttle. One of the guards came next holding both the med student and the Andorian in a death grip. Both were half running, half being dragged as they tried to keep up. The slave traders' business partner, his right leg crushed and dragging behind him, came next. In his right hand he held a phaser which was aimed at a Vulcan girl's heart. His left arm was slung around the girl's shoulders. Another two phasers were in holsters around his waist.

Finally, the Orion slave trader who'd kidnapped Tommy entered and the door was slammed shut. The trader took the pilot seat and soon they were abandoning ship. Watching through the window, Tommy saw the main ship explode. The other escape shuttle, caught in the explosion, became a fireball and shot across the bow of their ship. The shuttle shuddered as the trader tried to avoid the fire ball, failed, and lost control of the vessel. Tommy watched in fatalistic fascination as they plunged into the atmosphere of a quickly approaching planet and the ground came to meet them.

Again, the vision jumped.

Young Tommy was sandwiched between the Trill slaver and the dead guard. Beside him the Trill sat up. Grabbing the phaser from the guards holster she pointed it at Tommy and ordered him to get up. The med student was checking the Andorian, and at the Trill's query confirmed that he was unconscious but still alive. The lead Orion slaver was dead, crushed beneath the piloting console.

Tom spoke suddenly. Vorinna looked up to see a sad, pensive look flicker across his face. "I was so dizzy, it was hard to get my bearings. For the longest time I had been hiding my feelings, trying to be the good example of Starfleet breeding that I had been raised to be. But by now all I felt was emotional numbness. I couldn't feel anything. Not sorrow about all the other dead children. Not joy at the slaver's death. I just felt nothing."

The scene jumped again:

and they appeared in a cave.

"We were forced to abandon the shuttle. We walked for miles, hour upon hour before we found this cavern to rest safely in. We had to physically support both the Andorian boy and the injured slaver all the way. The Trill slaver walked at our back, phaser in hand."

The Trill slave trader started screaming.

Time jumped. Tom narrated.

"She was injured, after all. Without the proper equipment to correct the internal bleeding, it soon became obvious that the Trill host would not survive the day's end.''

Vorinna was pondering Tom's use of the word 'host'

even as the slaver with the crushed leg turned the gun on the medic, commanding him to implant his Trill girlfriend's symbiont into the Vulcan girl.

Tom laughed sardonically, remembering. "Amazing huh. The Trill are founding members of the federation and yet nobody knows that they are a joined species. The symbiont is medically implanted within a Trill host body. They become one. The host takes on the name of the symbiont as their surname. All of the memories and experiences of the host are retained by the symbiont and transferred along with it into each new host. Once joined, it is unlikely that a host body will survive long if the symbiont is then removed. Not all Trills are joined, though. Most of them aren't. It's considered the highest honour in Trill to be chosen as a host. This Trill murdered the Vahr symbiont's previous host and stole the symbiont for herself."

The medical student was trying to refuse to perform the operation, but the Vulcan girl agreed to become the host. Vorinna was utterly confused by this, considering it to be a totally illogical choice for a fellow Vulcan to make.

Tom once again explained. "The needs of the many. She's a diplomat's daughter, from a family of diplomats. Her grandmother was the Vulcan ambassador to Trill. She was travelling with her grandmother when their shuttle was hijacked. Right now, she's carrying her grandmother's Katra."

Vorinna was unable to hold in her shock at Tom's casual knowledge and mention of a very private Vulcan ritual.

Tom grinned knowingly at her and continued speaking. "A new trill host doesn't retain the former host's personality but becomes a completely new person. Most of the time, a Trill joining results in a 'good' personality. The Vulcan girl was hoping that the presence of her grandmother's katra would give her the edge she needed to be the dominant influence in the new joined personality. She knew that, not being a Trill, she would not survive long. But maybe, it would be enough to even the odds and give me and the Andorian boy a chance to escape and be saved."

Tom paused in his speech as he focused once more on the events happening in the vision where the surgery was beginning to take place:

The Trill trader screamed as she was cut open and the symbiont removed.

The young Vulcan girl flinched, and Tommy grabbed her hand while adult Tom continued his narration.

"There was no medication to ease the pain of the surgery. She had been unable to ignore her fear and the pain. I held her hand during the procedure to give her an anchor as she centred herself in a Vulcan trance. For a while, it seemed that everything would be fine and the operation a success. But then something went wrong. Both Vahr, that's the symbiont's name; and Ti'Raen, the Vulcan girl, knew that neither would make it. Because I was holding onto her hand the autonomous activation of the Katra transfer bond targeted me as the recipient. But it occurred simultaneously within the trill symbiont merging bond. Vahr was immediately concerned that the two processes would cancel each other out. Instead, they merged and morphed into a completely new and unique process."

Once more Vorinna found herself inside young Tommy's mind

as the unique bonding took place. Then the time of death was upon the three. The combined memories from Tom/katras/symbiont began a reverse transfer cascade into young Tommy's brain. Finally, the 'pure' katras of Ti'Raen and her grandmother Ke'thia transferred over and final separation occurred.

As his five-year-old brain overloaded under the onslaught, Tommy passed out unconscious on the ground.

Vorinna became an observer once more. She felt overwhelmed as a cascade of Tom's memories flashed by in rapid succession.

The death of the medic.

The near catatonic state of the Andorian boy.

Struggling to survive until the rescue.

Being rescued by an unknown alien race.

A year and a half of life spent with the aliens before being returned home.

Delivering Ti'Raen and her grandmother Ke'thia katras to the hall of memory.

Tom's memories were returning in a flood.

With a jolt, Vorinna found herself back in Tom's shared quarters on the Desiree, the mind meld abruptly terminated. She blinked as she felt autonomous mental barriers rising up, cutting off the memories and causing the mental anguish to dissipate. Tom's fingers left her face and she realised that it was Tom who had halted the mind meld, who had raised the mental barrier between them. It was Tom, an unnatural calm covering him, who moved to a standing, upright position first.

Vorinna stood and quickly retreated into the bathroom, overwhelmed by emotion. She templed her fingers and closed her eyes. She could still feel the echo of Tom's angry thoughts and repeated them softly to herself.

 _For a people "without emotions" the Vulcan priests had no trouble whatsoever in conveying their sense of disdain and disapproval for my 'alien presence' in their private sanctuary, despite, or maybe because of only being a child, and a human one at that._

It had been … unpleasant … to undergo the human experience of her people. She needed her equilibrium back. Quickly.

In the living area, Charlie and Odile rushed over to Tom from the couch where they'd been sitting. "What's wrong?", "What happened?" Their worried questions lapped over each other.

Tom mentally fumbled for an answer, unwilling to share the knowledge discovered through the mind meld. He smiled shakily. "Well, the good news is, I got most of my memory back."

"And the bad news?"

"Umm, apparently one of the things I'd forgotten about was being kidnapped as a child. It was somewhat intense. Since we weren't expecting anything like that, it caught Vorinna unawares."

Charlie and Odile gasped.

"Oh, Tom!"

"I'm fine, Odille. Really. Just let me check on Vorinna."

Tom knocked on the Bathroom door. "Vorinna, can I come in?"

Vorinna opened the door and Tom walked in. They stared at each other.

Finally, Tom started the conversation. "Are you alright?"

"I am unharmed." In fact, Vorinna was lying and was totally overwhelmed by the multiple sets of memories that had rushed through the mind meld. The knowledge that she had unknowingly tread upon a taboo subject was disquieting. The understanding of her parents' cautions regarding the use of the mind meld had come too late. Now all that was left was to minimize the damage.

"And you Tom? You are well?"

"Yes. My memories have basically returned. Thank you."

Vorinna nodded stiffly, desperately trying to maintain the illusion of Vulcan stoic calm.

Tom was hesitant as he spoke. "I believe that Vulcan tradition, and our personal safety, would best be served if we both agree to never discuss this incident again. To each other or anyone else."

Vorinna was quick to reply. "I concur. As soon as possible I will perform the Te fen Nal to erase the memory of this event. Given my intended career it would not be … appropriate for me to retain this knowledge." Vorinna looked away and then back at Tom. "It would be best if we terminate our acquaintance immediately."

"Yes. That would be the most logical course to follow in the circumstances."

"Yes." Vorinna moved to the door. "Good bye, Tom Paris. Live long and prosper."

"Peace and long life, Vorinna."

Vorinna exited as quickly as she could without making her distress obvious. The sooner she could perform the ceremony, the better. But not before recording a carefully worded log entry. Her parents were indeed wise mentors. She would not doubt their wisdom or their ways again. Perhaps a transfer back to Vulcan as her parents wanted would be for the best after all.

Tom waited until the murmur of voices stilled and the sound of the door shutting indicated that Vorinna had left. He exited the bathroom.

Charlie and Odile were forlornly seated on the couch, distressed by Vorinna's abrupt and silent exit. Tom retreated into his standard persona mode. "Come on, you two, I disembark in three hours. Let's go have a farewell drink together at the bar."

 **A.N.**

I wanted to add a story spoiler and say that not all of Tom's memories have returned at this point. He just thinks they have.

 **FYI.**

The **zhian'tara ritual** is roughly similar to the Vulcan **fal-tor-pan** ritual, since both enable the respective species to perform a synaptic pattern displacement, the transfer of what could be considered as a soul (katra, pagh, etc.).

The **Te fen Nal** is something that I made up, although given that mind melds can be used to erase memories, I'm sure a self-erasing-memory procedure is


	6. STA v2:S4: a temporary change of orders

Title: **Second Time Around**  
Category: TV Shows » StarTrek: Voyager  
Author: Dee474  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: K+

* * *

 **Section 4**

 **Alpha Quadrant. Changed Timeline. May 6 – May 17, 2367.**

With the mysterious disappearance of the Enterprise, Tom is temporarily re-deployed to Starbase 220 to work on a special project.

To be published as individual chapters.

* * *

 **A Temporary change of orders**

* * *

 **May 6, 2367.**

 **Starbase 220**

They stood in six rows of five. At attention. Eyes fixed firmly on Captain Plith, the starbase captain pacing in front of them. The air in the staff meeting room was at least two degrees cooler than standard Federation settings, reflecting the base's primarily Angosian and Andorian crew complement. It only served to enhance the frigid atmosphere that tainted the room. The two empathic members of the Enterprise contingent shivered in response to the supressed waves of concern emanating from several of the starbase staff members. The door opened and the last three crew members, one of them still carting his duffel bag, took their places in the rows of Enterprise crewmen and officers.

Plith stopped pacing and turned around. "Thank you for your quick response in getting to my staff room. It is my duty to inform all of you that Starfleet Command has lost contact with the Enterprise." Across the room bodies stiffened and eyes widened.

"As yet, there is no serious cause for alarm."

Tom Paris frowned. The Delta Quadrant had only honed the instinct garnered from his kidnapping experience. He easily recognised BS when he heard it and the captain's body language simply screamed alarm to him. He listened closely, committing each word, each inflection, to memory for further examination. Only one part of his brain grappled with its incongruous previous thought ... { _Delta Quadrant? It was unchartered. The stuff of fiction? He'd never been there. Had he?}_

"This is Starfleet. Unexpected delays are common. In the normal course of duty this information would not have been shared with you…"

The captain paused in his speech; a mere moment, barely a nonosecond as time is measured. Yet, for Captain Shimon Plith, that moment contained an entire flashback of the call from Starfleet Headquarters two hours previously, a moment laden with any number of unspoken concerns and hidden agendas:

"Admiral Necheyev, as requested the comm. line is secured and encrypted. "

"Thank you, Captain Plith. I have been trying to contact Captain Picard on the Enterprise. I assume they have not yet arrived at your Starbase?"

"No sir. We had expected them 20 hours ago."

"They didn't inform you of the unexpected delay?"

"No Admiral. I've heard nothing since Captain Picard notified me of a late addition to their crew transfer list a week ago."

"I see." The Admiral's face tightened. "39 days ago, we lost contact with the science vessel 'The Brattain' in Sector 219. The Enterprise was despatched to try to find her. All direct communication with the Enterprise was lost twenty-six hours ago."

"That can't be a coincidence."

"No, we don't think so either."

"Do you need me to organise a search party?"

"No. Starbase 219 has already done so. No sign of either ship has yet been sighted. There is, however, the matter of the 33 Enterprise crewmembers waiting on your Starbase."

"Respectfully ma'am, 32. Ensign Paris is still an hour away on the Desiree."

"Yes, of course. I'd like you to assign the Enterprise crew to standard duties aboard your starbase until further notice. We'll reassess the situation when we have more information or the standard three-month search time expires."

"Reassign them? Sir, we're talking about Enterprise crew. Surely, it's a bit premature…"

"Perhaps. But Captain Picard is not known for a casual disregard of protocol. Had it been possible to communicate with us, he would have. You are in a volatile area of space out there, surrounded by any number of nonaligned worlds: If it was just the Brattain we'd lost contact with; Or, if the second ship wasn't the Federation's flag ship, there would be less concern. As it stands, our intelligence suggests that it is possible that both ships have been the victim of foul play. On the other hand, no-one here is ready to write the Enterprise off completely; thus, the decision to assign them duties with you."

"Yes Admiral."

"One more thing, Captain. I do not believe that alerting the general populace to the seriousness of the situation is necessary. Please reassure the crew that all efforts are being made to resolve this issue, quickly and efficiently."

"Yes Admiral."

"Keep your eyes and ears open, Plith. Neycheyev out."

Captain Plith took a deep breath and continued his debriefing. "Command is confident that the cause of the delay is probably a minor technological glitch and that we will be hearing from the ship soon. In the meantime, you will be acting in temporary positions aboard Starbase 220 within your designated fields until further notice."

Tom's mouth curled in disbelief. _No cause for alarm but we're already being prepped for reassignment. Yeah right!_

"As I call your name, please step forward," the Captain continued. "Ashton, Melisandra. Security."

A female of average height, average looks and recently graduated from the academy stepped forward. Tom recognised her, his attention caught by the way she walked. Several memories from his academy days flitted quickly through his brain: sitting behind her in biochemistry; sharing drinks at a party; the morning after in some unrecognizable place; the standard 'it was great, see you around' split afterwards. Tom sighed, wondering why the influx of memories had left him feeling strangely dissatisfied and empty.

"G'taerra. Lieutenant. Security." A tall and powerful looking Ktarian male with a long golden-brown mane of hair, tawny yellow eyes with horizontally split pupils and the forehead spikes peculiar to the Southern Islands of Ktaria also stepped forward.

This time Tom was confronted with a vision of a little girl with peaches and ivory skin, strawberry blonde hair and sporting those same kinds of spikes. She was reaching out to him as if asking to be picked up. Tom blinked rapidly to dispel the vision. What was wrong with his crazy brain? He had all of his memories back. Well, all of them except for how he'd actually ended up as a reserve pilot for the Enterprise rather than heading out to Caldik Prime with Charlie and Odile, his proverbial tail tucked between his legs after his encounter with his dad. And there were no Ktarians in his past. And definitely no Ktarian children. He'd always been very careful to steer clear of that kind of trouble.

Further images of the little girl flitted through his brain, begging for an emotional response. Tom frowned and shook his head to dispel the images. They were a figment of his imagination...

Even if they did feel more real than the memories of Ashton, they weren't. After he was settled in, he'd visit the doctor, just to make sure everything was all okay.

Tom came back to attention to find that only seven people remained in the room. The captain reeled off four of the names. All of them assigned to Astrogation. Tom frowned as the four were instructed to follow the head of the Astrogation department, Commander Lucash. Why wasn't he being included in that group?

"Paris, Thomas Eugene. Astrogation."

Tom, poker face fully in place, stepped forward.

"Ensign, I understand that you suffered a head injury enroute."

"Yes, sir. The surgery went well, and I am ready for duty."

"I appreciate that, ensign. Injury notwithstanding, the truth is, this station is quite small in the scheme of things. We'll be stretching to find work for your four colleagues. As the last pilot to be assigned to the Enterprise, you drew the short card and will instead be working on a special engineering project. Of course, if a situation needing your piloting services comes up, you will be asked. You will also have full access to any of our Astrogation training rooms and holodeck programs as well as regular flight time to maintain your certification."

"Permission to speak, sir."

"By all means."

"Why engineering? If it's probably only a glitch perhaps I could just work on sims for a few days until the Enterprise gets here."

Shimon Plith pressed his lips together. "You have your orders, ensign." Motioning to the remaining officers, he began the introductions.

"Ensign, I'd like to introduce you to your new work colleagues, Lieutenants Alexander and Rahara Monroe."

The two officers nodded their greeting.

"Although their substantive assignments are with the Enterprise, they have been here for the last two months working with us on a special project. Now that the Enterprise has been delayed, it's a good opportunity for them, with your assistance, to fine tune the last few details of the project. You will also be sharing quarters with them. Dismissed."

Alex Monroe leaned forward and clapped Tom on the back with a broad smile. "Come on. Let's get you settled. I hope you're hungry. My wife has prepared a wonderful meal for us to enjoy while we get to know one another a bit more."

Tom nodded his appreciation. Picking up his duffel bag he followed slowly, mind working overtime. The Monroe's seemed unconcerned but Tom didn't like the way Captain Plith had avoided answering his question. It seemed ominous and the atmospheric tension was back with a vengeance. He fervently hoped that this delay was not the first step into an inevitable slide back to the Caldik Prime position he had just rejected. He didn't yet remember why he'd rejected it, but the acrid taste that burned in his stomach every time he thought about that place indicated that he probably had a real good reason. It must have been. After all, he'd defied his dad. _Yeah, it must be a real doozy._


	7. STA v2 S4: out of my depth?

**Section 4: chapter 19**

 **Out of My Depth?**

* * *

Kabin Rell, a pugnacious and bitter fifty-year-old unjoined Trill, walked slowly into the Engineering block. His first day back at the hell hole otherwise known as starbase 220 and he was wishing that he hadn't bothered. Not that he had choice. Thadial Bokar** his handler had insisted. Unusually his fellow grunts were all gossiping wildly instead of working quietly on their individual projects. Even the two Vulcans were having their say. Kabin siddled up to the most easy going team member there.

"Hey Laedaro, what's going on?"

Lt Baega Laedaro bit back a sigh and plastered a smile on his face as he turned to face his colleague. Like most Angosians he hated conflict and violence, but somehow both just seemed to follow the Trill around.

"Crewman Rell, I didn't realise you were back. How was the trip?"

Rell scowled. "It would've been better if I hadn't been stuck on a Deneva Class transport ship for the last few days. Just the cargo crew, me, my wife and a bunch of newbie academy grads all fawning over Admiral HellKing's spawn."

One of the nearby Vulcans frowned and spoke up. "I really do not feel comfortable with your casual disrespect for rank and authority, crewman. You should address Lt Laedaro as Lt Laedaro. And Admiral Paris as Admiral Paris, not Admiral HellKing. Otherwise, I feel obliged to take the matter up further with Captain Plith."

"In any case, Baega quickly added before Rell could say anything, "said spawn is joining our team today, so you should be more circumspect with his rank and name, also."

"What the $," Rell's disbelieving glance swung wildly between the Vulcan and the Angosian. "Why would the Captain assign any pilot to work in Engineering, let alone a hotshot smartass like that one."

"While I agree that placing a pilot with our specialized team seems somewhat illogical, I am sure that the Captain knows what he is doing."

"Never mind that," interrupted a Bolian as she pushed into the small group. "Do you really think that Ensign Paris is a hotshot smartass. Why? Did something happen on the way over? What is he really like? OOOH is as handsome and good-looking as they say he is. I hear that he is the most amazing ummmm date a girl could ever wish for. I can't wait to meet him." The Bolian squealed in excitement, making the two females Vulcans wince in pain and the four male Angosians as well as the Andorian groan in agonised disbelief. The single female Angosian opted to join her Bolian colleague in a squeal of excitement.

"I know. I've heard that too. And I think Rell is just jealous cause he's an old married man and Tom Paris is young, single and totally amazing." The Bolian and the Angosian both sighed dreamily.

The sound of laughter and animated talking floated down the hallway. The engineering staff all rushed to their consoles and had just begun to look busy when the project leader Lt Cmd. Rahara, a female Vulcan, her human husband Lt Alex Monroe, her Andorian second-in-command Lt KalaahlThriss Ch'iranon and a tall blond human male – presumably the fabled Ensign Tom Paris - walked in.

"Alright, everyone. Team meeting immediately please."

Everyone quickly joined the three newcomers and introductions were quickly made.

Several days later Laedaro watched curiously as Ensign Tom Paris began to stare blankly at the interface they were working on. The human then blinked twice before brushing past him to kneel directly in front of the panel. Without volition, it seemed, the human's hands reached out, grabbed a hyperspanner and started fiddling with the relay.

"What are you … hmm, I think that just might work." The Angosian engineer's voice shifted from alarmed anger to thoughtful contemplation. His hands which had shot out to grab the pilots fell back to his side. With quiet focus, he watched the young human tinker his way through what appeared to be an unusual, yet highly methodical and structured procedure of adjustment and realignment.

Fifteen minutes later the young pilot eased back on his haunches and sat silently staring at the engineering equipment it seemed that he had fixed, a slight frown marring his visage. The Angosian considered the inter-relay. He had keenly observed the human's actions and he, at least, was satisfied. He touched his combadge. Laedaro to Monroe. I think our newest team member has stumbled onto the solution to the inter-relay problem. Go ahead and give the system a run through."

"Roger that."

A minute later the inter-relay hummed melodically into action. Excited chatter filtered down to them from the engineering panel. A minute later Alex Monroe's voice roared out in exuberance, "You little beauty!"

"Rahara to Laedaro and Paris. We have achieved a ninety-five point three percent efficiency on the panel interface. You may return to Engineering Experimental Station One."

The Angosian began the return crawl but quickly realised that the strange human assistant he had been saddled with was not following. He crawled back. "Paris…Paris. Ensign Paris!" Laedaro put his hand on the human's foot to gain his attention. The human started and quickly withdrew from his touch. _Strange creature. Acts more like a Vulcan than a human sometimes. An illogical Vulcan, but a Vulcan, nonetheless. "You did it. From 39% efficiency to 95%. A wonderful result. Time to move on."_

The human nodded quietly, still not talking and turned to follow him out.

Back at Engineering Alex was still whooping and jumping.

"Brilliant. Simply brilliant."

Tom winced as Alex exuberantly clapped him on the back, his mind still disturbed by the vision he had just seen and acted upon.

"Indeed," agreed Rahara after hearing the Angosian's report. "A successful, if unorthodox solution."

KalaahlThriss Ch'iranon smiled proudly as he nodded his agreement. "Thoma, we have been searching for a solution to this inefficient interphase link problem for three months. Yet you, a non-engineer, worked out a solution in only two hours. How did you manage it?"

Tom gulped and shrugged diffidently. "I don't really know. I was ready to call it quits and just be done with it when suddenly the solution was there, staring me in the face and I knew exactly what needed to be done…. Just a fluke, really. I'm glad that Lt Laedaro understood what I was doing, because I don't. I couldn't repeat what I just did if you offered me a million bars of latinum to do so."

"Well, I'd say that this calls for a celebration! What say you, wife?"

Rahara observed her husband quietly before nodding. More than thirty years of marriage to a human had taught her the necessity of bending to the situation occasionally. "Although there is still fifteen minutes before our shift ends, I do believe that it is acceptable, for any team member who wishes to, to finish early. As long as those team members are all in agreement to make up the time at the beginning of tomorrow's shift."

Exaggerated mock groans filtered her way from the majority of the non-Vulcan team members. Of course, it didn't prevent the engineering team from, as one, downing their tools and heading to the door.

"Drinks at Mickey Flinns in ten," shouted the team's sole Bolian crew member to a chorus of cheerful agreements.

Kabin Rell trailed slowly behind everyone else, eyes glaring daggers at the young human ensign's back. That Paris kid rubbed him the wrong way for some reason he still couldn't put his finger on. _Arrogant pup. Needs to be put in his place._ Rell watched as the human flicked a hand carelessly through his hair as he turned and grinned at something the female Angosian was saying. The proverbial lightbulb popped and he realised the issue. The Paris kid reminded him of that obnoxious Trill that had bounced him from the symbiont program thirty two years ago. _Perriva Vahr. Yes. That was it. Tom Paris was just like a human version of Vahr. Think they're gods and can just walk over the top of the rest of us. Well we'll see about that. It's about time someone taught these know it all hot shots a lesson. And I'm just the person to do it_. Rell smiled maliciously as the perfect way to do it came to mind.

Ten minutes later Kabin Rell placed a frothing glass of an exotic Trill cocktail in front of the young pilot. "Here, drink up. A solution like that deserves a reward." The Trill grinned in pretend comradery as he downed his own identical cocktail.

Tom smirked sardonically as he took note of what he'd been handed. A loud voice reminiscent of the Vahr symbiont was now obvious as it floated through his consciousness. "Rell was always a jealous fool. Always more concerned with pulling the competition down rather than achieving success through his own efforts. It's why he was turned down by the commission as a candidate for joining. Too risky."

Tom recognised the drink as a Flemharan Sunburst. Non-Trills were prone to immediate, long bursts of vomiting if they were ignorant enough not to know to water it down with a milk product.

Fortunately, Tom had recently become reacquainted with his hidden memories of twelve trill hosts as well as their symbiont. Raising his hand to the bartender he quietly ordered an Andorian yoghait snifter. Quickly he downed the two drinks in quick succession. He smiled back at his generous team mate. "Fantastic. I love Flemharen Sunbursts with an Andorian yoghait snifter. It really appeals to both my salty and sweet tastebuds. Don't get many opportunities to share the experience though. How about another? My treat this time."

Tom gave a silent signal to the bartender to repeat the order, "Maybe, with just a pinch of scharalzin, this time," he added.

Rell scowled. Scharalzin. _That was what was missing from the drink. I can't believe he knows the names of our spices let alone what to add it too. Darn Admiral's kid._

With a friendly nod, Tom took the opportunity to find a more pleasant drinking partner. Seeing the Monroes and Thriss seated together he screwed up his courage and walked over. As memories of Thriss's older brother being tortured rose up to haunt him Tom quickly slammed the door of the memories shut. Raising his mental shields as high as he could, Tom shifted into casual party persona 1. It was showtime.

A.N. (**a male Farian operative for the Orion 9 episode _prodigal daughter)_


	8. STA v2: summary of what is still to come

**In the works and still to come**

 **A.N. 1 June 2018**

I know how annoying it is to be in the middle of a story only to realise that there are no more chapters and it doesn't look like there ever will be.

With this in mind, I thought that I would reassure you that not only do I have a plan but the first draft of the story has been (mostly) written.

So, the following is a rough guide to the story outline as it currently stands:

 **Section 4: Alpha Quadrant. Changed Timeline. May 6 – May 17, 2367.**

To be published as individual chapters.

With the mysterious disappearance of the Enterprise, Tom is temporarily re-deployed to Starbase 220 to work on a special project.

Chapter 18 A temporary change of orders (written and published)

Chapter 19 Out of my element? Published today. Non-beta'd, but publishing it anyway

Chapter 20 A road less travelled beta'd. final modifications to be made.

Chapter 21 Dog Fight beta'd. final modifications to be made.

Chapter 22 Falling Apart beta'd. final modifications to be made.

Chapter 23 Unwanted Attention beta'd. final modifications to be made.

Chapter 24 Going Downhill Fast beta'd. final modifications to be made.

Chapter 25 DQ Mode and Masks unwritten

Chapter 26 Interview with Capt Picard first draft needs major work and beta'ing

Chapter 27 An unexpected Offer first draft needs major work and beta'ing

 **Section 5: Alpha Quadrant. Changed Timeline. May 17, 2367 - June 26, 2367**

The Enterprise returns. Tom begins his duties as a relief pilot on-board the ship. Unexpected repercussions as a result of events on the USS Desiree and Starbase 220 continue to have a domino effect on Tom's life aboard the Enterprise.

Again, the first draft of a large portion of this section has been written. Most of it needs some modification work before it can be beta'd and is subject to change.

Chapter 28 Cats have claws

Chapter 29 A harmless distraction

Chapter 30 Sick bay

Chapter 31 Unpleasant associations

Chapter 32 Meeting Geordie La Forge

Chapter 33 Settling in

Chapter 34 Shuttlecraft duty

Chapter 35 Brooding about Caldik Prime

Chapter 36 An unexpected attack

Chapter 37 Emergency Conference

Chapter 38 Family Issues

Chapter 39 I think I preferred the Delta Quadrant

Chapter 40 Now what do I do?

Chapter 41 What happened in the turbolift

Chapter 42 Living with Vulcans

Chapter 43 Aftermath of the turbolift event

Chapter 44 The Senior Team Talk

Chapter 45 What? I'm a pet project? Again?

Chapter 46 A case of Bolian Flu

Chapter 47 Lonely in a crowd

Chapter 48 That jittery feeling

Chapter 49 Avoiding Guinan couldn't work forever

Chapter 50 Flashback to Wolf 359

Chapter 51 There's been an incident at Caldik Prime

 **Section 6: The truth of Caldik Prime revealed. (projected date of event: June 30, 2367?)**

 **Yet to be written.**

 **Epilogue** :

The truth behind the reason for the changed timeline.

Tom has a decision to make.


	9. S4: The road less travelled

**The Road less Travelled**

 **Starbase 220**

 **May 10, 2367**

Alone in his bedroom Tom sat on his bed, head in his hands. It was his fifth day on Starbase 220 and his situation was getting desperate. He couldn't take it anymore. The total amnesia which had precipitated the mind meld meant that it felt like he was dealing with his childhood traumas for the very first time. These memories were so uppermost in his mind that he'd already needed to visit with the station communications officer as he was constantly responding to queries in the language of the Beta Quadrant aliens he'd lived with. Unfortunately, this language was unknown to the universal translater. Captain Plith, gleefully excited to be using his xenolinguistic qualifications once more, had personally accompanied him to assist in the computer's assimilation of the new language. It had taken several hours of inputting just to get the basic syntax into the system. All the while the Captain had peppered him with questions he either didn't want to answer or was not allowed to answer. It had been harrowing.

This morning, though, he had bumped into Ashmore. Immediately, he had seen what appeared to be a vision of her future. Ashmore had been several years older in the vision. Her broken, burnt out body staring lifelessly at him had been horrifying. But what made it worse was that this kind of incident had happened several times in the last week. He'd meet people, some of them perfect strangers to him. But for a few seconds they would be overlaid with a vision of an older version usually in some degree of injury or death. He'd taken to spending more time alone, focusing on the engineering project he had been attached to. Even then, he found himself being pummelled with futuristic visions showing him what to do when confronted with an engineering conundrum. _As if trying to deal with my past memories isn't hard enough, now I'm having premonitions too._

Tom shook his head in frustration. The engineering project had also brought him into daily face to face contact with Thriss and Linth again. Tom thought ruefully of the hypnotic counselling he now remembered his parents putting him through in order to 'move forward' from the ordeal. Apparently, moving forward had required a total blocking of his memories including the convenient and prestigious transfers for both Thriss and Linth's parents which had sent both families far away out of the Paris' orbit. _And while for them it's old history and this is a fantastic reunion with the child who'd saved their brother and bond-brother's life and consequently been given familial status within their clans, for me it's raw and new; And none of it has helped me deal with my frustration with dad's constant interference in my life._

His stomach churned with anxiety. Yet he still could not bring himself to visit the base doctor, unable to shake the conviction that to share his concerns would be professional suicide, or personal suicide once it got back to his father, whichever came first. He didn't have time to deal with all of this crap. He just wanted his brain to shut up and leave him alone.

This morning he had been remembering the actual mind meld that had precipitated this crisis. More specifically he was remembering the superimposed calm he had experienced for the first few hours afterward. He wanted that calm back. Needed it _._

So here he was, in his bedroom, staring at a Vulcan meditation candle belonging to the family he was sharing quarters with. Contemplating something so phenomenally outside his known normal, he was still trying to wrap his brain around the fact that he was even considering it.

Another vision floated through his brain. This time it was of a Klingon-human hybrid female. He vaguely remembered seeing her at the academy once or twice. He'd thought about asking her out but before he could act on the thought she'd dropped out. Once again, the girl was older in the vision. Strangely she was in a Starfleet lieutenant's uniform and speaking to him:

"Practicing Vulcan meditation techniques with Tuvok is really helping me deal with my anger issues, Tom."

The vision disappeared as quickly as it had come. He considered what had been said, trying to ignore the strong stirring of attraction for the woman that had returned along with the vision as he did so. _Well if it can help a part-Klingon, it should do wonders for me._ Mind made up, he lit the candle, ready to leap blindly forward. Thinking time was over.


	10. STA v2 S4: Dogfight

**Unnamed unaligned planet in Sector 220.**

 **May 12, 2367.**

Captain Plith was attending a diplomatic function on one of the nearby non-aligned planets. Thanks to an overheard conversation, he had decided to make the most of the opportunity of having the extra Enterprise crew at his disposal. Some of the pilots were putting on a display to remember.

The crowd oohed and aaahhed as they watched the aerial display on two giant screens. Like the crowd, he found himself dividing his attention between the aerial display above him and the display screens to his left. The starbase captain grinned to himself as he noted the awe on the faces of the visiting diplomats from eight of the ten nearby non-aligned planets of sector 15. _Nothing like a bit of impressive aerial stunt flying to impress upon the locals the advantages of membership in the Federation._

He had to admit that, for once, the gossip mongers hadn't exaggerated. _That young admiral's kid was every bit as talented as people said he was. If anything, he was even better._ The current pretend dog fight between the Enterprise team, and the starbase team was spectacular.

Suddenly, a giant explosion sounded above him. As one, the crowed looked over to see smoke pouring out of one of the starbase's shuttlecraft. It shuddered and careened out of control for a minute before beginning a rapid uncontrolled descent toward the watching crowd on the planet surface. Evacuation procedures began sounding out over the comm system.

Plith opened his communications link to the shuttle. He listened as Ensign Paris of the Enterprise walked through the shut-down procedure with Commander Lucash.

"I can't control our descent."

"Riq, it's okay. We're right here with you. Focus on the shut down procedure. We're going to do the rest. But you've got to trust me. Are the dampeners off-line?

"I'm trying. What the ?"

Out of nowhere the lead Enterprise shuttle swooped in. The crowd paused, compulsively watching the view screens in stunned amazement as the shuttle performed a series of seemingly impossible maneuverers around the damaged shuttle. It soon became obvious that the Enterprise shuttle was using the wake of its momentum, in combination with the judicious but interspersed bursts from its tractor beam to redirect the falling shuttle's trajectory.

"Tom, we're offline. OH ###."

Plith heard what sounded like another explosion on the base shuttle. "We're on fire!"

"Is everyone OK?

"Shaw's unconscious but escaped the brunt of the explosion. The transporters are totally fried and we can't shut down the shields."

"Deep breath, Riq. Focus on getting the fire under control. Danvers work on the shields."

"We're slowing down."

"Like I said, Lucash, we've got your back. Shield and fire suppression. That's your job right now."

The energy force from both the close aerial manoeuvres and the intermittent tractor beam was resulting in the damaged, and now blazing shuttle being redirected back into outer space in the firm shadow of the second shuttle.

"Lucash, everyone okay in there?"

"Yeah. It's bumpy as all git out. What are you doing?"

"Stopping you from crashing. What's happening with the shields?"

"The shield's primary system wires are fused."

"What about the secondary's?"

"Intact, but the pathways been compromised."

"Okay, here's what I want you to do …"

Plith listened spellbound as Ensign Paris guided the two teams through a complicated and highly irregular fix for the shield while simultaneously co-ordinating and performing breathtaking manoeuvres at high impulse.

A minute later they were a safe enough distance away. Spell bound, the crowd watched as the tractor beam was fully disengaged. Another impressive 180 degree manoeuvre brought the second shuttle in behind the first.

"Okay shuttle 2, brace yourselves for impact."

A second later an icy ionic phaser burst flashed out encompassing the damaged shuttle in a soft icy mist, dousing the flames instantly, and stopping the shuttle itself dead in its tracks. The Enterprise shuttle fully engaged its tractor beam once more, bringing the now lifeless shuttle back to the ground. Two minutes later, the announcement, over the conn system, that the crew of the damaged shuttle had been safely rescued was received with jubilation.

Captain Plith breathed a sigh of relief _. If that little display of Starfleet competence in the midst of an unexpected crisis didn't win over this sector, nothing would._ Heck, he was impressed! And his father was a veteran test pilot. _Man, who'd have thought that those class 5 shuttles were capable of those kind of moves!_ That kid wasn't just good, he was in a class all of his own. "Well done, people. Well done. Debriefing in the conference room in an hour."

Thoughts of the conversation with Admiral Neycheyev floated through his brain. _Could it have been sabotage?_

"Plith to maintenance. I want a full investigation on that shuttle. Go over it with a fine tooth comb."

Putting aside his concerns for a more appropriate time, Plith plastered a confident smile onto his face as he turned back to face the delegates.

 _No wonder, Captain Picard wanted this kid on his ship. It obviously had nothing to do with his pedigree. Too bad. I could really use that kind of skill and ingenuity around here._

Captain Plith ruthlessly suppressed the direction his thoughts were going. He'd been handed the opportunity of a life-time on a silver platter. Now was the time to focus on consolidating the attainable. _Of course, a memo to personnel requesting the kid for consideration as head pilot here at Starbase 220 once he's clocked the hours and the necessary rank wouldn't hurt either._


End file.
